


Say My Name

by EggplantSalad, Januarium, samwhambam, ships_to_sail, this_is_not_nothing, yourbuttervoicedbeau (kiwiana)



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: 5+1 Things, Aftercare, Anal Fingering, BDSM, Banter, Blow Jobs, Boys in Skirts, Canon Queer Relationship, Come Eating, Come Marking, Comeplay, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Dom Patrick Brewer, M/M, Manhandling, Nipple Play, POV David Rose, Painplay, Patrick Brewer is Thirsty, Pinching, Possessive Sex, Prostate Massager, References to Drugs, Rimming, SO MUCH TEASING, Self-Voyeurism, Service Top Patrick Brewer, Skirt Kink, Stevie never helps anything, Teasing, Two Cocksluts in Love, Zipline, delayed gratification, or is it zipper?, patrick brewer has a plan, patrick loves david's sweater and also david, safeword usage, simulated rimjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:35:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27092920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EggplantSalad/pseuds/EggplantSalad, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Januarium/pseuds/Januarium, https://archiveofourown.org/users/samwhambam/pseuds/samwhambam, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ships_to_sail/pseuds/ships_to_sail, https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_is_not_nothing/pseuds/this_is_not_nothing, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiana/pseuds/yourbuttervoicedbeau
Summary: Five times Patrick made David forget his own name, and one time he forgot Patrick’s.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 169
Kudos: 448





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The idea was to bring together a group of fic writers to see if they could become something more. See if they could work together to depict five times David came so hard he forgot his own name, and one time he came so hard he forgot Patrick's.
> 
> (It's like The Avengers, but for porn.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by ships_to_sail

There is an acute and specific kind of frustration that comes with being overwhelmingly horny and completely unable to do anything about it. 

Well. Not  _ anything _ . Just not any of the things David wants so desperately to do. From the moment they kiss goodbye outside Stevie’s apartment, a moment so tender and soft that it’s all the sweeter for the filth it follows, David realizes he’s made a horrible mistake.

If he was absolutely desperate to get his hands on Patrick  _ before  _ given the chance to enjoy him in privacy, it was absolutely nothing compared to the all-consuming heat that occupies him now that he knew exactly what it was like to have Patrick underneath him, shaking and sweaty and flushed pink at all his edges. 

Suddenly, his casual caresses at the store take on a kind of smouldering heat that he feels radiate up his forearms all day, a tingling in the pads of his fingers that’s only satisfied when they’re digging into shoulders, or hips, or the soft swell where a rather impressive ass starts. No matter how many slightly annoyed-if-indulgent looks Patrick gives him, no matter how many times David holds up his hands like he’s giving up and forfeiting, his hands keep finding their way back to Patrick’s body. 

It only takes three days before he’s so desperate he pushes Patrick through the entrance to the back room and blows him hungrily, Patrick’s back shoved against the boards of the wall, his hands buried deeply into David’s hair, twisting and tugging and lighting up all the little edges of pain that drive David to the brink. Patrick comes, quickly and quietly, and the hushed rush of it all fails to satisfy David’s hunger, and instead leaves him that much more desperate to work sound out of Patrick again.

Which is why it only takes a week before David is dancing around asking Stevie about upcoming availability, trying to figure out the likelihood of completely abandoning what’s left of his dignity to sneak Patrick into the love room. 

“We  _ were  _ booked solid. Why?”

“I need a reason to care about the upcoming fiscal status of my family’s one and only financial lifeline?”

Stevie narrows her eyes and tilts her head to the side, moving an eight and then taking her hand off the computer mouse and turning to face David where he leans on his elbows over the counter. He’s picking at a knot in the wood and trying to fix his face into a mask of something casual, but. Stevie’s not his person for nothing.

“Yes. A normal person, probably not, but you? You need a reason to be asking.”

“Well I don’t have one.”

“Okay,” she shrugs and turns back to her solitaire game. “In that case, I’m afraid I can’t help you.” David stares at her for a second, two seconds, almost an entire half a minute before he groans and drops his head into his hands and mumbles something. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

David picks up his head and gives her the saddest, least shameful puppy dog eyes he can manage. “I need somewhere to take Patrick.”

“I’m sorry, was there something wrong with my apartment?”

David glares at her. “ _ No _ . But there’s only so many times you can fuck your…”

“Boyfriend? Gentleman caller? Lover?”

David’s face twists into that one and he shakes his head. “Date. Only so many times you can fuck your date beneath a Sarah McLaughlin poster and a quilt that’s got “love from grammy” embroidered in the corner.”

“Oh, okay, yeah. That makes sense. Definitely better to seduce your  _ date  _ in a room with red silk sheets and a mirror on the ceiling. Go right on a head, Ron Jeremy, let me know how that works out for you.”

“I seem to remember it working for you.”

“I was drunk. And a little high. And I’m  _ me _ ,” she says with a shit-eating grin, which David returns with an eye-roll and an open, indulgent smile.

“Fine. Message received. The place could do with a makeover. But Stevie.  _ Please.  _ I’ll owe you.” 

David says the magic words and watches Stevie’s face transform, her eyes softening even as her smile becomes sharper. “Owe me what?”

David sighs. “Two bottles from the next wine shipment. Not the top-shelf bottles, I have to sell those to make margin. But other than that, any two you want.”

Stevie chews on the corner of her lip. “Make it three, and you’ve got a deal.”

“Stevie!”

“David!”

He glares at her, his eyebrows furrowed, but Stevie just stares back, hands laced on the desk in front of her. She starts to whistle, and David flaps his hands in exasperation. “Fine. Fine! Deal. Now…” David’s eyes drift towards the phone, and Stevie rolls her eyes as she picks up the phone with one hand, scrolling through something on the computer with the other.

David raises his eyebrows as the seconds tick past and Stevie doesn’t say anything, and she’s mid-shrug when David can hear the loud, mechanical beep through the earpiece. 

“Hi, Mr. Steele? Ms. Merriweather? It’s Stevie, at the motel.” She meets David’s eye and holds it while she talks. “Sorry to say there’s been a last minute issue with the...plumbing. The pipes are backed up in the room you’re booked for, and if we don’t get someone in to take care of it this weekend, they’re absolutely going to blow.” David flips her off and she blows a silent kiss at him. “So I’d be happy to go ahead and rebook you for the following weekend. On us.”

Stevie grimaces at David and he gives her prayer hands, mouthing a silent thank you as he backs towards the front door. “Best wishes,” he whisper-shouts at her from the doorway, pulling it closed behind him before she can change her mind, cutting off her, “warmest regards” in the process. 

*

The bottom line is, there’s only so much David can do with the time and resources he has at hand. He’s able to rearrange a few lamps, place a few indulgent, decorative linen pieces and a beautiful centerpiece arrangement of all the best the local Elmdale Safeway can provide. He makes one attempt to pull the mirror from the ceiling, feels something in his shoulder twinge in a way he doesn’t like, and ends up tacking a sheet over the damn thing with a black cotton sheet, hoping against hope that maybe Patrick will be so otherwise occupied he just won’t notice.

A hope that lasts exactly three minutes into their time on the bed, when Patrick leans back and pulls David on top of him, guides David’s head to that spot on his neck they both love, and lets his eyes drift upwards.

“Hey, David?”

“Mm,” David worries the vein in Patrick’s neck with his teeth, keeps up a slowly increasing pressure until Patrick squirms. He drags the flat of his tongue over the same spot, pulling out some of his best tricks, but, even though his voice is razor thin, the next time Patrick speaks, he still hasn’t moved on.

“Is that a sheet on the ceiling?”

“No.”

“Really? Because it looks an  _ awful  _ lot like a sheet on the ceiling.”   


“Well, it’s not.” David slides his hand up Patrick’s inner thigh, rubs his knuckles over the slowly growing bulge in the front of Patrick’s. His hips rise to chase David’s touch, but his eyes stay glued to the ceiling.

“Why is there a sheet on the ceiling, David?”

David’s head falls back on his neck. “Oh my god, this isn’t happening.”

“Oh, it most definitely is,” Patrick says with a sly grin, wiggling out from under David and climbing up onto the mattress, stretching his body and bouncing slightly to reach all four of the thumbtacks in the corners, letting the sheet fall onto David, who’s moved to lying on his back, arms thrown over his head like maybe if Patrick can’t see him, he’ll just. Cease to exist in this moment. The minute the blanket touches him, he bunches it up and buries his face in it. “Oh. Oh, my God.”

Patrick sinks back to the mattress and lays back against the headboard, and he’s been staring at the ceiling so long David is starting to worry his neck is going to freeze like that. David is still bent over, his face pressed into the cheap black cotton. He feels a little bit like screaming, and a little bit like dying, and a little bit like flipping Patrick over and eating him out until he forgot where he was, let alone what the ceiling looks like. 

Before he can do anything, though, Patrick is back, on top of him this time, slipping into his lap and wrapping his arms around David’s shoulders, burying his hands in David’s hair before David gets the chance to stop him. Not that David would have, especially once Patrick starts pulling short, sharp little bursts, his nails scraping along David’s scalp as Patrick’s hands wander. He presses his mouth to David’s fully, sucking on his lower lip and dragging his teeth lightly along David’s tongue when David licks into the corner of Patrick’s mouth. It’s a greedy kiss, hungry and wanting and a little frantic. 

David brings his hands to rest on the swell of Patrick’s ass, the dip of his hip where David has seen two little dimples he wants to sink his teeth into. He catches Patrick’s eye and holds it, his eyebrows furrowed. He’s used to a whole spectrum of reactions from the people he’s seeing, towards a whole rainbow of different sexual experiences. He’s learned, over the years, to try and not pre-judged but. He’s human, and an imperfect, horny one at that.

So he truly hadn’t ever thought that the giant mirror on the ceiling would be less of a problem for Patrick than a  _ huge  _ fucking aphrodisiac. 

“That’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Patrick says to the silent question on David’s face. 

“Seriously?!” He tries to keep his voice level, knows that surprise can often sound so close to judgement, but he’s. Well. Surprised.

Patrick shrugs, but doesn’t look away. There’s a small act of bravery in that, and it sends shivers down David’s spine, back up through the space between his third and fourth ribs, where his heart squeezes painfully in his chest. He and Patrick are taking it slow, David knows that, but he thinks that underneath all that slow is an entire river of fast, and it’s just a matter of building a ship that will hold them both through it. “I mean, in a super trashy, 1970s porn movie sort of way, yeah. It’s, like. Kitschy kink.”

“Kitschy kink?” David tilts his head, considering, and sighs at the soft brush of Patrick’s lips along the extended line of his throat. “It does have a certain ring to it.” 

“You think so? Maybe we can find a way to work it into the store,” Patrick nips at the lobe of David’s ear, grinds gently down against David’s lap, chuckles darkly into the hollow of his throat when he finds David hard and leaking into the skirted Rick Owens he’s chosen for the evening. “Or maybe  _ you  _ can work it into me, instead.”

David bursts out laughing, and Patrick joins him, pulling himself close to David, giving him an honest to God hug, his hands drifting lazily up and down David’s back. David’s laughter slows, and in that mixture of magic and humanity he’s only ever found in bed, the moment between their shared laughter at Patrick’s bad line and David sighing into Patrick’s mouth, letting himself fall back into the mattress as Patrick slides down his body, is too quick for either of them to catch. 

“Can you —” Patrick reaches up and loops his hands around David’s thighs, pulling him forcefully so that his hips are perched on the edge of the bed, his feet planted flat. He should probably stand and kick his pants off, but he doesn’t get the chance before Patrick is ripping at his belt, thumbing the top button open with surprising deftness, yanking both the pants and David’s dark grey boxer-briefs down around his calves. It’s a little awkward, and a little constricted, and David can already feel his thighs twitching to fall open, to wrap around Patrick’s shoulders.

But Patrick’s leaning into David’s space, digging the pads of his thumbs into David’s hip bones, dragging his nose up the underside of David’s cock and sucking lightly, almost experimentally at the head, and David can’t move because of the bunched fabric around his legs and the absolutely captivating sight of Patrick’s head, moving slowly down towards David’s cock. 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” David hisses, and he doesn’t understand why it’s this hot. He had sex in this room with Stevie and it wasn’t this hot, watching himself slide in and out of her from behind, her hand rubbing furiously at her clit as his handprints bloomed pink and pretty over the curve of her ass. It wasn’t this hot when she’d flipped around and lubed him up, stretched him open and pegged her with her favorite teal dildo that, for reasons neither of them ever discussed, was already in the nightstand drawer. 

Patrick pulls off with a loud pop, his hand immediately taking over the slow stroke up David’s shaft. His eyes dart towards the ceiling, where he watches himself swipe his thumb over the slit of David’s cock and the precome gathered at the tip. Patrick smiles up at himself, and David feels a familiar tightening in his balls. He can’t come yet, he refuses to, conjures up memories of the things he’d seen his parents doing to each other at that ungodly morning hour, but then Patrick growls, fucking  _ growls _ , in the crease of his thigh, biting at the tendon that runs along the length of David’s groin, and David’s hips buck involuntarily. 

“Easy, tiger,” Patrick says, laughter in his voice even has his non-busy hand comes up to press into David’s hip, pinning him to the mattress with a splay of palm across the gentle point of hip bone. 

David wants to laugh, tries to laugh, but the sound comes out a choked, strangled thing as Patrick bites the other thigh, sucks a deep slow bruise into the skin, all the while his hand is dragging slowly up and down David’s cock and David can’t stop watching it all in the mirror. He’s decidedly  _ not  _ looking at himself, but that’s easy given the absolute picture Patrick makes, on his knees, pressing forward and practically lying halfway on the mattress as he forces his body into David’s space, into his skin and his smell and the heat of him. 

Patrick bites once, firmly, on the tender skin he’d just marked and David whimpers, the jolt of two different pains on top of one another sending another bolt of lightening along all his nerve endings, fireworks in a humid sky that seem hazy even as they pop. Patrick looks up at him again, his eyes darting upwards towards the mirror once, so quickly David isn’t entirely sure that Patrick even meant to do it. “Will you come on my face, David?”

And — David has been asked so many things by so many people, even that exact question once or twice, but never by someone like Patrick. Someone who looks at David like he hung the moon, who sees red silk sheets and the mirror on the ceiling and doesn’t just say okay, but jumps on David like he still can’t wait to peel back all the layers and bury himself inside David’s Truth. 

It’s overwhelming, and David just shuts his eyes and nods, pressing the back of his head into the mattress.

Patrick’s hand stops moving a split second before it’s gone entirely, and David is pretty sure this is what the end of the world feels like.

“I need you to say it, David. I need to hear you say it’s okay.” 

They haven’t talked about any of that yet, boundaries and safewords and color codes and all the outlines David knows to take to keep himself and the people he’s seeing as close to happy as he’s ever been able to manage. David’s voice is hoarse with want and need and something that feels like a knitting together, “Yes, Patrick. I’ll come on your face.”

He says it on an exhale and before he can inhale again, Patrick’s hand is wrapped back around his length, his mouth hot and wet and tight around the head as he swallows over and over again, the flexing press of muscle along David’s cock enough to pull him softly but swiftly to the edge.

He’s chanting Patrick’s name, mumbling a litany of “good boy”s and “just like that”s that have Patrick sucking harder, bobbing his head faster, his hand a little tighter as it glides down David’s shaft, leaves his dick to tug gently on his balls. There’s spit and precome dripping down David’s dick and this sucking, low-tide sound coming out of the back of Patrick’s throat right before he pulls off entirely and David hears him growl, “watch, David.”

David’s eyes fly open as the steady, commanding tone in Patrick’s voice pairs with the calloused slide of the pad of Patrick’s thumb over that one spot under the head of David’s dick and before his brain can process what’s happening, he watches in the mirror as thick, milky white ropes of come land on Patrick’s face. 

Patrick’s still got one hand on David’s hip, and he presses down, using the leverage to give himself a better angle, making sure David’s come lands across his outstretched tongue, the thin skin of his eyelids, the ruddy pink of his flushed cheeks. David watches as Patrick, eyes still closed, reaches up and swipes a few drops a little too close to his lash line, popping that finger in his mouth and sucking luxuriously. 

It’s too much, that finger in Patrick’s perfect mouth, and David has to close his eyes. He presses them closed and sees the moment replayed on the back of his eyelids, David coming on a gasp as Patrick made sure David came exactly where he wanted, exactly where the white would pop against the flush of his cheeks, the sheen of his skin. David would bet good money Patrick wasn’t even aware of just how much he was doing for David, putting himself on his knees and asking so nicely to be used. There were still so many things they needed to talk about, so many places he wanted to put his hands and his fingers and his mouth, so many different —

“David?”

No, not David, who was David,  _ Patrick  _ was the one who needed worshipping, who needed to be laid out on his stomach, ass spread around — 

“David? I’m gonna call Stevie if you don’t answer.”

“Who’s David?”

“....You’re joking, right?”

“No David. Only orgasm.”

Patrick chuckles, the sound growing softer and louder again as Patrick walks to the small en-suite and returns with a warm, damp washcloth, his face freshly scrubbed and his hands making gentle work of cleaning David off. “That good, huh?”

“Yeah,” David says, catching Patrick’s wrist as he moves to get off the bed. “That good.”

David hears the wet thud of the washcloth hitting the carpet, and then Patrick’s there, his body warm and solid against the length of David’s body. Soon. As soon as he remembers his name and gets feeling back in the soles of his feet, he’ll spend all night showing Patrick just  _ how  _ good. 


	2. Chapter 2

It’s not until Patrick is dragging him into the back room that David realizes he has, perhaps, overshot the mark.

He’d just wanted to encourage Patrick a little. Just wanted to see him lose control a little. Patrick is so calm and assertive and it gets David so fucking hot. But it’s addictive, too, to see his eyes go vacant and hear his quick inhale when David brushes against him in the store. To see someone like Patrick shivering and moaning and snapping, taking what he _wants_ in bed. It’s almost better than the orgasm.

So David wears his most touchably soft sweater to work with a knee-length black skirt that shows off his calves and swings enticingly around his thighs when he walks (And he should know—he practiced in the mirror at the motel). It’s Ray’s poker night, and David’s plan is both simple and impeccable: subtly rile Patrick up throughout the work day and reap the benefits that evening. 

He pauses just outside the shop and smoothes down his skirt. Checks the flap on his satchel. Tugs on the hem of his sweater. Fuck, why is he nervous? Skirts always make him feel sexy. But Patrick has never seen him in a skirt. Skirted pants, sure, but an actual skirt? Never.

Right there on the sidewalk, already five minutes late for work, is maybe not the best time for David to realize he might have had a deeper reason for wearing the skirt. Because Patrick’s his boyfriend now, is the thing. It’s not casual anymore. Before last night, they were just business partners who fucked and went on dates and were exclusive and… okay, maybe it wasn’t really that casual to begin with. 

But still, now it’s official. Boyfriends means—something, though David’s stomach clenches up when he thinks about that _something_ too deeply. Maybe Patrick wouldn’t want a boyfriend who wears skirts, so—maybe it’s better to show Patrick now. _Before it hurts too much when he dumps you_ , David’s brain supplies unhelpfully. He squares his shoulders and opens the door.

Patrick’s behind the front counter, fingers flying over the keyboard. David flips the sign to Open and turns around, leaning back against the door with his hands behind him. “Morning, Patrick.”

“Hey, David,” says Patrick, except the second half of his name doesn’t quite make it out, because that’s when Patrick looks up and clocks the skirt. 

David has just enough time to worry that maybe he shouldn’t have worn the skirt, that it’s too femme, too _much_ for Patrick, that _he’s_ too femme, too much, but then a familiar flush steals over Patrick’s face and his mouth falls open a little. 

Well, okay then.

So David swishes past him and runs his hand casually down Patrick’s arm, closing his eyes in victory when Patrick sucks in a ragged breath behind him. He hangs up his bag in the back and grabs a box of candles to restock. And if his hands are a little shaky with relief for a few seconds, well, that’s between him and the candles. 

When David emerges from the back, Patrick is still typing away, but slower, and the back of his neck is pink. David sets the box down and wraps his arms around Patrick’s shoulders, leaning in to brush a kiss against his hot cheek. “I’m gonna restock the candles,” he breathes into Patrick’s ear, barely suppressing his smile at the shudder that ripples through his boyfriend.

“Yeah. Yeah,” Patrick blinks and shakes his head a little. “I’m. I’m, um. I’m gonna reconcile—keep reconcile, keep reconciling these receipts.”

David carries the candles to the other side of the room with a little extra sway in his step, reveling in the way Patrick’s typing stutters and slows to a stop. He puts six pumpkin coffee candles on the shelf—they’re selling like crazy—then he (not very) absently scratches the skin above his knee, pulling up the hem a little to get to it. Three more candles, and he glances back over his shoulder. Patrick is staring at the computer, but both hands are gripping the edge of the counter, knuckles white as pearls.

David stretches a bit more than strictly necessary to reach the lemon verbena candles on the top shelf, letting his sweater ride up to expose a thin strip of skin. Patrick blows out a frustrated breath and stalks to the produce bins, spritzing them energetically. David hides his smile in the fresh linen candles.

The cardamom carrot candles are next, just below waist height. Instead of the close-legged plié he normally does when bending in a skirt, David slowly folds himself over at the waist. The hem drags a good six inches up his thigh and there’s a dull thud behind him. He straightens and looks back, face all innocence just in case. Patrick has dropped the spray bottle to the floor. His chest is heaving and his eyes are boring into David’s. Slowly, Patrick reaches behind himself and flips the sign to Closed. Then he twists the lock and stalks toward David.

David tucks a smile into his lips, but it won’t stay put, so he has to purse his lips around it. He lays the next candle back in the box and turns all the way around in time for Patrick to slide his arms around David’s waist.

“I thought maintaining consistent business hours was important for customer loyalty,” he says as Patrick steers them both into the back room.

“David,” Patrick says. “Fuck the customers.” David should probably feel bad about the zing of pleasure that shoots up his spine, but he can’t help it. Patrick rarely swears, and he’s a stickler for store hours. _So that means he likes me, he likes me_ , the little voice sings in his head.

“Mmm, is that who you want to fuck?” David says lightly as Patrick pulls him through the curtain.

Patrick huffs out a laugh, then runs one hand down David’s thigh, til it’s just a few inches above the hem. He stops and gathers a fistful of the fabric, fingers opening and closing spasmodically. 

“Tell me—tell me if you don’t want this,” he says, and his voice is like the last gasp in the desert before the oasis. 

David’s hands alight on Patrick’s chest and smoothe up and over his shoulders. “As it happens, I _do_ want this. But just for clarity’s sake, what do _you_ want?”

Patrick shakes his head slowly, eyes burning holes right through David. “You have no idea.”

David runs his hands back down Patrick’s front and brushes his thumbs across his nipples, grinning at Patrick’s punched-out gasp. He hooks one index finger under Patrick’s belt and tugs him closer, then traces the other across the thickening swell in his jeans.

“I have some idea,” he says, dipping his head til he’s looking at Patrick through his lashes.

Patrick mutters a strangled curse and then suddenly he’s pushing David up against the wall and plunging his fingers into his hair and—well, it’s not kissing, what they’re doing. Patrick is devouring David, holding his head just where he wants it as he licks and bites into David’s mouth, suckles his lower lip.

David slides down the wall a little, spreading his legs a bit to even out the height difference, and also because he loves it, he fucking _loves_ it, when Patrick is looming over him, big and solid.

Patrick crowds impossibly closer, dropping his hands from David’s hair to his ass as he nudges between David’s legs. He pulls David in and grinds their cocks together, the front of the skirt hitching higher and higher with each rock of his hips. David tips his head back and gasps as the rough denim drags against the secret skin of his inner thighs, as Patrick sucks wet, open-mouthed kisses down his throat.

“Jesus, David, _Jesus_ ,” he rasps against David’s neck. His hands dive under the skirt and boomerang back to David’s ass, as if that one layer was just that bit too much.

“Oh, you _do_ like the skirt,” David manages to tease, and Patrick slows his hips and hums. 

“God. Yeah, I like the skirt, David. I like seeing those gorgeous, long legs. I like how it moves when you walk. I like how _accessible_ you are.” He slides his hands down a few inches and traces trembling arcs back and forth on the sensitive skin just below where David’s ass meets his thighs. His lips buzz against the base of David’s throat. “I could touch you anywhere. All I’d have to do is flip your skirt up and I could have my hands or my mouth or my dick on you. It would be so easy.”

David pushes back against Patrick’s hands, and Christ, has he ever been so hard? “I wanna be easy for you, Patrick,” he murmurs. “I wanna be so easy. Show me how you want to touch me in my skirt.”

Patrick pulls back and spins David around with dizzying speed, pressing him against the wall first with his hands, then with his hips. Then Patrick is puffing ragged, tea-scented breaths against his cheek. “Wanna touch this perfect ass,” he rumbles, his voice nearly unrecognizable. “Want to touch you everywhere.”

David hisses, shoving his ass back against Patrick’s cock. “Yeah, come on, do it, please,” he gasps, and wasn’t Patrick supposed to be the only one out of control? But Patrick is grinding helplessly against his ass and David can’t even fucking _think_ , it’s so good. He loves being fucked, wants it so bad, but Patrick had wanted to go slow, so it’s been handjobs and blowjobs and frotting thus far.

“This what you want?” Patrick whispers, the ridge of his cock dragging up the cleft of David’s ass in a filthy grind. “Like this?”

“Yes,” David pants. “ _Yes_.” Then, horny as he is, he thinks of the sweet way Patrick makes love to him, how no one has ever touched him like that, like he’s important. “Sometimes,” he adds, honestly, and _where the fuck did that even come from?_

Patrick hesitates for a second, pulls away a bit. “Is it what you want right now?” he says, and David’s so exasperated with himself and turned on but also touched, and he can’t hold all those feelings inside him, so he arches his back and rubs his ass against Patrick’s crotch again. “Mmm, what do you think,” he says breathlessly. 

Patrick grabs the hem of the skirt and presses it into David’s hands. “Hold that up,” he grits out. David can turn his head just far enough to see Patrick’s face, and it’s all pinched eyebrows and huge, hungry eyes full of _I want_ and _Listen up_. He yanks the edge of the skirt up to his shoulders, because when Patrick has that look on his face, every cell in David’s body wants to obey.

Then Patrick kicks David’s feet apart and slides down to his knees, and holy fuck, _holy fuck,_ yes, this is just what David wants. Patrick licks the tender skin behind one knee and David yelps, bucking. Patrick plants one broad palm on the small of David’s back, not really forcing David to stay still, but not suggesting much either. Then he’s sucking dirty-sweet kisses up the backs of David’s thighs, stopping every few inches to work hickeys into the sensitive skin. He shifts to the other leg, and now he’s scratching his nails lightly up and down his thighs.

“Want to see you bend over in that skirt again,” Patrick mutters, sucking another mark on his thigh. “Want everyone to see you’re mine.” David keens and shamelessly ruts against the wall, desperate for relief. 

Patrick jerks David’s hips away from the wall and nudges the sides of his black briefs up with his thumbs, slowly licks the crease between David’s thighs and ass, first on the left side, then the right. “My god, you have the best ass,” he says, then pulls the material taut and scrapes his teeth down the center of David’s crack. 

Patrick chokes off a noise when his mouth gets down to the bottom, and god, oh _god_ , David can feel his humid breath ghosting right over his hole. Then Patrick’s licking and sucking at the seat of David’s underwear, and David should probably care that Patrick is ruining his $75 Versace briefs, but he absolutely does not give a single, solitary shit because it’s so goddamn hot. He’s never trusted a partner enough to let them rim him before, but this thing Patrick’s doing, over his underwear, not even touching his hole, it feels fucking amazing.

Someone’s moaning, raw and animalistic, and David realizes it’s him when he hears his own voice saying “Please, Patrick, _please,_ ” over and over. 

Patrick pulls away and spins David back around, then dives right back in, dragging his bottom lip up the stony line of David’s cock. “Mmm, please _what_?” he murmurs, pausing to suck at the blooming wet spot. “What do you want?” 

David thrusts his cock gently against Patrick’s mouth. “You know what I want.” 

Patrick closes his eyes and lays another wet, open-mouthed kiss over the tip of David’s cock. “I wanna hear you say it,” he whispers. He grazes his knuckles over David’s balls, then slips his thumb under the fabric and traces the delicate skin. “Say it,” he repeats and licks the wet spot again, and that’s fucking _it_.

“Suck me Patrick, please suck me, _please_ , I want that sloppy fucking mouth on me,” David gasps, pulling the edges of his skirt as high as he can.

Patrick tips his head back and groans, and David squeezes his eyes shut because he’s going to come if he thinks any more about how turned on Patrick is, how his sensible, practical boyfriend closed the store on a Thursday morning just so he could get on his knees and suck David’s dick. 

He hears the clatter of a belt buckle, the buzz of a zipper and a relieved sigh as Patrick makes himself more comfortable, and nope, David can’t look because he’s already riding too close to the edge. He opens his eyes and focuses instead on the bunch and play of Patrick’s blue-covered shoulders as he pulls David’s briefs down in the front just enough to expose his dick and balls, and he thinks for a wild second of St. Elmo’s fire. 

Some handsy sailor had told him about it in a Greenwich Village bar one time; he’d said everything turned blue and hummed right before lightning hit, and David thought it was bullshit at the time but the whole room is humming right now, or maybe it’s just Patrick as he takes David into his mouth, and David can’t believe he’s so close already.

Patrick sucks him down, one big hand twisting up and down the shaft while the other reaches around to the back. David has just enough time to wonder what Patrick’s doing before he feels a broad thumb rubbing circles against his hole through the soaked fabric, and Jesus fucking _Christ_ , it feels like he’s eating David out. 

David wails and rocks back and forth, greedy for the sweet, sucking mouth on his cock, for the thumb pressing against his ass. “Oh fuck, baby, oh _fuck_ , you look so good on your knees for me. Look so good with a dick in your mouth.” 

Patrick whines and jerks his hips forward, seeking any kind of relief. He ends up humping against the side of David’s leg because he’s so desperate for it, because he can’t stand to take his hands off David’s dick and ass. It’s the lewdest thing David has ever seen, and he’s so close he’s babbling. “Oh Jesus, you gonna come on my leg just from sucking my cock?” Patrick _growls_ and it’s like thunder spreading out over David’s whole body, and there’s lightning crackling underneath it, all racing toward one spot.

“Patrick— _Patrick_ , I’m gonna come,” he chokes out with the last shreds of his self-control. Patrick immediately pulls off and squeezes the base of David’s dick _hard_. David whimpers but it works, long enough anyway for Patrick to stand up. He lurches forward helplessly to kiss David, to take his mouth, and it’s all tongue and scraping, biting teeth on David’s lips, his chin, his Adam’s apple.

He leans his forehead against David’s and pants, “Not gonna come on your leg. Gonna come on what’s mine.” And David’s knees almost buckle, hearing that, but Patrick holds him in place with a _look_ , and he’s holding David’s dick in one hand and jacking his own hard with the other, muttering, “Yeah, hold that skirt up higher, show me what’s mine, don’t wanna get come on your pretty skirt, gonna come all over that thick cock, it’s mine, it’s fucking _mine_ , don’t you dare come first, oh my god, oh my _god_ —“

Then Patrick’s groaning and painting David’s dick and balls with stripes of come, smearing it all over with his other hand, and David’s pretty sure the skirt is about to get ruined anyway because he can feel Patrick’s come dripping down his balls and he’s about to blow and it’s going to get _everywhere_. 

But then Patrick squeezes his cock ungently and says, “ _Wait_ ,” and even though he’s already come his eyes are still full of storm clouds. David nods, trembling, and he clutches the fraying edges of his self-control like a skirt, and he _waits_. 

Patrick drops back to his knees and starts licking his own come off of David, moaning the whole time like he just can’t help himself. “I made such a mess on you, God, it’s all over you, you like your boyfriend’s come all over you?”

David’s whole body is buzzing and his dick is twitching but Patrick said not yet, he said wait, and David can just barely hold on, but he can’t keep his mouth shut at the same time.

“Yeah, I like it, I fucking love it,” he babbles, hips thrusting. “Love your mouth on me, cleaning me up. Suck me clean, Patrick, do it, give it to me, fucking _give_ it to me, Patrick Patrick _Patrick_ —“ David’s voice claws up into a howl on the last word and then Patrick swallows around his cock and David is coming harder than he ever has in his life, so hard he sees flashes of blue and white light at the edge of his vision and he thinks nonsensically, _it’s real, it’s real, it’s real_. And Patrick keeps on sucking him right through it, through the aftershocks that keep arcing through him, until finally David is slumped against the wall, shuddering and heaving, skirt still held tight around his shoulders like a shield. 

He’s not sure how long he stands there, but he senses movement in front of him, feels Patrick gently pulling his underwear back up, but he still keeps his eyes closed because everything is still too much, the lights behind his closed eyes pulsing with his heartbeat. 

Patrick is making sounds but David can’t hear them through the ringing in his ears. He opens his eyes. Patrick is tucking his shirt back in and buckling his belt, and he’s making the mouth sounds again, but David still can’t make sense of them. Words? What are words?

Patrick steps closer and brushes his hands softly over David’s white-knuckled fists. “David?” he says again, and a thread of concern touches the edge of his voice.

David. He knows that word. It means him, his body, all the parts of him that Patrick blew apart and stamped his name on and then twisted back together. 

“Yes, Patrick,” he says, and he knows Patrick is just checking in on him, he knows Patrick is just the kind of person who checks in on people, he knows they’ve only been together for three months, but Patrick said he was going to come on what was his, and David wants him to know David’s his. Wants to say yes to everything Patrick could ask him for, he wants to give Patrick all his yeses. _Yes to anything you want, Yes, I’m here, Yes, I hear you, Yes, I’m yours, Yes, I lo—_

“Love the view, but you can put your skirt down now,” Patrick says. David does, slowly, his hands still shaking a little. And they need to go open the store back up, but now Patrick is blushing, looking a little unsure of himself, and David remembers how new Patrick is to all this, to _wanting_ , and he needs to know David’s okay, that he liked it, that Patrick didn’t go too far.

“Well,” David croaks. “You're going to have to give me a minute after the best blowjob of my life.” 

Patrick’s eyes light up with a joy that’s too smug by half. “Really, the best?” he says, grinning like David just put a gold star on his chart. David knows he’s made a tactical error, will have to fuck with Patrick about his boring shirts or something later to restore the balance, but what the hell, Patrick has earned this. There are some things David doesn’t tease Patrick about, because he never wants Patrick to feel ashamed or discouraged about sex. Especially not when it results in a god-tier orgasm like that for David.

“Mmm, did I say the best?” David says and purses his mouth flirtatiously as he rubs Patrick’s shoulders.

Patrick nods somberly, winds his arms around David’s waist. “You did, in fact, say I was the best.” And Patrick’s tucked the smile away into his lips, but it’s leaking out everywhere else, lighting him up in the most beautiful, obnoxious way, from the pink tips of his ears to his too-loud eyes to the hands brushing gentle arcs on David’s back.

“Well, alright,” David says with mock gravity. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” says Patrick as he leans in to kiss David. David closes his eyes and licks into Patrick’s mouth and tastes the ozone on his tongue.


	3. Chapter 3

“There’s something I want to try.”

Sometime in the last few months, these words have become David’s six favourite words in the English language. Because Patrick approaches sex like he approaches everything else in life, with determination and enthusiasm and capability, and _there’s something I want to try_ can best be translated as _I want to make you come so hard you literally scream._

Which David is definitely not complaining about, to be clear. The neighbours might be, but they’ve had the decency not to say anything.

They’re in Patrick’s kitchen, cleaning the last of the dinner dishes and enjoying a rare Ray-free evening. They haven’t spent a lot of time together outside of work in the last week, David worrying too much about spreading his poison oak rash no matter how many times Patrick insisted it wasn’t contagious, and David’s surprised to realise he’s missed the casual domesticity almost as much as he missed the sex.

Almost.

“Ooh, do tell.” He punctuates the comment with a little shimmy as he dries the skillet in his hand. Patrick hesitates, and as David goes to put it away he bends at the waist before opening the kitchen cabinet; he can _feel_ Patrick’s eyes on him at the movement, making him shiver.

“I want to try rimming.” Patrick’s voice is deceptively casual, and any followup comment he might have made is lost under a loud crashing sound as David drops the skillet on top of the other pans in shock.

It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it once or twice. Patrick is deliciously responsive to David’s touch, his ass incredibly sensitive, and David is sure he’d go wild for it. It’s just that they’re usually so pressed for time on those rare occasions when they have privacy that they tend to skip straight to the orgasms part, and it’s not something that has featured regularly enough in David’s sex life in the past to be bumped up the list.

“Mm, yes, I’d be into that.” David straightens up, turning around to find Patrick’s eyes hot on him. “Why don’t you head upstairs and shower, and I’ll do the last of these?”

“Oh.” Patrick blinks. “I mean— shower, yes, sure, and I’d be— but— I meant I want to rim _you.”_

David blinks twice, processing this, before he sucks some air past his teeth. He’s never— it’s a trust thing, that’s all, to let someone— he’s never felt comfortable. Giving, sure, a few times. Receiving, never. There was that one time, months ago now, when Patrick had licked at him through his underwear before sucking his dick but it had been so frantic, and Patrick’s mouth had moved to his cock so quickly, that he hadn’t really had time to process exactly what was happening. When it didn’t come up again after that, David kind of forgot about it.

But he trusts Patrick. And he really, really likes the way Patrick is looking at him right now.

“Okay.” It’s more of a breath than an actual word, but Patrick’s face splits into a wide smile at the agreement, which— wow, okay. Patrick really wants this, and that’s honestly probably more of a turn-on than the act itself. He falls back on teasing before he can get too lost in it.

“So I guess _you_ have to finish those while _I_ shower.” He expects Patrick to laugh, or roll his eyes, or press the tea towel back into his hands and insist that he finish, but instead Patrick steps forward and crowds him into the counter to give him a long, deep kiss before pulling away.

“Get in the shower, David.” His voice is low and firm, his breath ghosting along David’s lips where he’s hovering just a couple of centimetres away, and David swallows hard before he nods.

“Going.” He barely manages to choke out the word, and he doesn’t _run_ up the stairs. He might take them two at a time, but that’s… he has long legs.

Once he’s in the bathroom and the water is heating up he peels his clothes off far more haphazardly than they should warrant before stepping under the spray. He tries to strike a balance between efficient and thorough but he’s still in the shower long enough for Patrick to join him, crowding in behind him just as he’s rinsing off. David grins as Patrick’s arms slip around his waist and he presses in close, his cock hard and insistent against David’s ass, and David turns around to snake a hand in between them but Patrick catches his wrist before David can take him in hand.

“I have a plan, David.” David shivers at the tone and Patrick obviously notices, kissing him lightly and far briefer than David would have liked before stepping back. “And that plan involves you facedown and naked on the bed, waiting for me.” He brushes a thumb along David’s cheekbone. “Think you can do that for me?”

“Yes.” It comes out in a croak, and David clears his throat. He still finds it difficult, being laid out naked and the centre of attention, but when Patrick looks at him like he is now everything feels easy. “Yes.” It’s much clearer the second time, and Patrick smiles at him.

“Good. Go on, then.”

David goes on, then.

* * *

“Fuck, _David.”_

The low groan from the doorway makes David start. He’d drifted off a little, waiting, but now Patrick is here he’s wide fucking awake, his arms under the pillow and face twisted out to the side so he can breathe properly. He feels rather than sees Patrick climb onto the bed, but instead of settling between David’s legs he spreads his whole body out on top of David’s, the weight pressing him into the mattress as Patrick captures his lips in a filthy kiss until they’re both panting.

“David, you’re so…” Patrick’s voice trails off as he moves along David’s jaw towards his ear. Once, the unfinished sentence would have sent David into a spiral of _‘so’ **what?**_ but with Patrick he just relaxes into it, enjoying the sloppy kisses that are now trailing down the back of his neck.

Patrick makes his way almost unbearably slowly down David’s body, little kisses and licks and nips all over his back like he doesn’t want to miss a single inch of skin. By the time he arrives at the base of David’s spine David is writhing, his hands twisted in the sheets as he presses down into the mattress to try and find some relief for his aching cock. Patrick chuckles, low and insufferably sexy, as he sits up before getting his hands around David’s hips and tugging him up into a kneeling position, his forearms still on the bed. He nudges David’s legs apart with his knees before getting in between them and then his lips are back where they were, right on David’s tailbone before they move further down, into the cleft of his ass as Patrick pulls his cheeks apart. Before he has time to feel too exposed Patrick moans, the sound echoing through the room like it was torn from deep within him, before he shifts slightly on the bed and then he _licks,_ long and lewd across David’s hole.

David feels it like a lightning bolt, or maybe an entire fucking electrical storm. Whatever the applicable cliché is it ricochets through him, making his fingers tingle and his toes curl, and he gasps and pushes back into the sensation before he can think about it. Patrick laughs again, his fingers digging into David’s flesh.

“Stay still, David.” It’s barely a murmur, his voice low and infuriatingly steady. “Take what I give you.” And if David whimpers a little at that it’s okay, because Patrick probably doesn’t hear it over the way he groans as he presses forward again, his tongue wetter now as he repeats the movement a second time.

David grips at the sheets, trying desperately not to thrust because it feels _so fucking good_ he can hardly stand it. He’d be self-conscious about the frantic, needy sounds that are being pulled from him if not for the fact that Patrick is making similar noises, though slightly muffled, and the desperation he can hear and feel in the way Patrick’s tongue presses against him curls through David’s belly. He’s drunk with pleasure, a multitude of sensations washing through him: the way the tips of Patrick’s fingers are holding his ass exactly where Patrick wants it, gentle but firm; his cock, curving towards his stomach, steadily leaking precome as it cries out to be touched; the sheets bunched up in his hands as though they can keep him anchored; and Patrick’s tongue, _his tongue,_ the short little licks around his rim interspersed with wet, messy strokes across his hole. David feels filthy, and wild, and unimaginably sexy as Patrick shifts his hold a little, pulling David closer and moaning as he buries his face between David’s cheeks.

David’s whole body is thrumming as Patrick continues to lap at him as though David’s ass holds the secrets to the universe. He’s lost all sense of the passage of time when one hand releases its grip and David has just enough brainpower to wonder where he’s going before Patrick’s face shifts slightly, and David hears a grunt and feels a sharp puff of air against his hole and _holy fuck, Patrick is jerking off with his tongue in David’s ass_ and David’s cock twitches so hard he genuinely thinks for a second that he might come just like this. There’s a long, loud groan from behind him and Patrick’s tongue stills for a moment before he pulls back slightly, panting hard in a way that makes David’s rim clench a little at the harsh air. He waits for Patrick to move away so he can sit up but to his surprise Patrick just brings his now come-covered hand to David’s hip and _yanks_ him backwards as he spears his tongue into David’s hole.

“Oh _fuck.”_ David thinks he chokes the words out — it’s the closest he’s come to coherent speech in a while, anyway — as his fingers scrabble at the bedsheet. He’s been fingered and fisted and fucked and yet somehow this, half an inch of Patrick’s tongue pressing into him, is the most intense thing he’s ever experienced; sparks are dancing along his eyelids and there’s a sort of high-pitched whining noise falling uncontrollably out of his throat and every single nerve ending under his skin is lit up like fireworks. And finally, _finally_ Patrick slides the hand gripping David’s hip around to his cock, smearing come all over his skin before those talented, callused fingers wrap around his dick and David almost sobs with relief, riding the edge far too closely to be embarrassed by how wet Patrick finds him. And it’s nothing at all, half a dozen strokes and a thumb swiped gently across the head while Patrick fucks his tongue into David’s ass as far as it will go, and David somehow has the presence of mind to turn his head and bury his face in the pillow as he half-sobs and half-screams his way through a loud, violent orgasm that seems to last forever.

The aftershocks ripple through him for a long, long time, wearing away at the muscles in his legs that are holding him up until his knees finally slide back as he collapses onto the bed, incognizant of the mess he’s adding to the bedspread as his pulse roars in his ears and he twists his head so he can catch his breath easier. It’s the hardest he’s come in— well, ever. It’s the hardest he’s come _ever_ and his vision is hazy, his head spinning as he sinks into the mattress, boneless.

“David.”

He doesn’t know what that languidly groaned word means, and he’s not sure he has enough control over his body to open his mouth and ask, so he just breathes through his nose while his hammering heart slows down a little.

“David?”

There’s that word again, but this time it’s accompanied by a gentle hand on his hip and he likes that, so he hums contentedly. He feels the mattress shift underneath him and the next time he blinks his eyes open Patrick is in front of him, his face flushed, smiling softly as he reaches out a hand.

“David, are you good?”

He feels fingertips stroking gently along his forehead and he leans into it. “Wassatmean?”

The fingers still. “Didn’t quite catch that, David.” Something in the teasing lilt makes it all slam back into place. _He’s_ David. Obviously.

“Fuck, that was incredible.” His face is still half-buried in the pillow, the words groaned out, and if Patrick notices that it doesn’t sound anything like _wassatmean_ he has the decency not to point it out. Instead, his smile gets a little bigger, his eyes a little wider.

“You liked it?” Patrick is asking _sincerely,_ as if he didn’t just see — and hear — how hard David came, and David— 

—goes skittering away from whatever is bubbling up in his chest.

“God, yeah.” That seems safe enough to say, and yet he still only manages a whisper. 

Patrick grins, the little aw-shucks grin that David adores, the one he only makes when he’s really, really proud of himself and trying not to show it. And all things considered, David thinks he’s earned being really, really proud of himself. “Patrick?”

Patrick’s thumb brushes through David’s hair. “Yeah?”

Summoning his ability to control his limbs with some effort while Patrick just watches him with a bemused smile pulling at his lips, David pulls one arm out from under his pillow and presses his finger to his nose.

“Not it for changing the sheets.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick gives David a lil housewarming present. Even though they didn't move in together. ;) Set right before THE housewarming party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! It's your resident sam! 
> 
> Much much love to my beta TINN, (whose fic is coming up shortly in this lil adventure)! TINN you are a light in my life and I'm very happy you made a joke about this that I took VERY seriously.
> 
> This was a very fun project that I did with a bunch of friends and I’m very happy to have done it with you all ♥️

“I have a housewarming gift,” Patrick smirks as he puts a package down on the kitchen table in front of David. David raises his eyebrows at the plain cardboard box. 

“Did you forget that I didn’t move in with you?” David teases.

David’s glad they talked about this, and that they’re at the point where they can joke about it. He grabs the box anyway and pulls it closer to himself. He’s never been known to turn down a gift. Patrick shakes his head at him, with a fond smile. 

“I know that, but this is more of a gift for the two of us.”

David raises his eyebrows as Patrick holds out a pair of scissors. He takes them and when he opens the box, there’s a packing slip right on top. Patrick grabs it quickly as David pulls out the packing paper. There’s a smaller black box with small white writing that David can’t read in this lighting. 

“What?” He asks, but he pulls it out before Patrick can respond. 

Every bit of his body freezes as he reads the box. It’s a prostate massager. 

“You said yours got lost in the move,” Patrick explains. Which, ‘the move’ is an understatement, but he’ll let Patrick have that one. “And you said that we shouldn’t bother with buying one while I lived at Ray’s because we would never have the privacy for it.”

“Mhm,” David nods vigorously. “Now we do.”

“Now we do,” Patrick agrees. 

David tries to keep himself from slipping his finger beneath where the cardboard is tucked into itself and the box is closed. But he wants to open it  _ now.  _ Why wait?

“David,” Patrick’s voice is soft but stern and David knows that voice. He  _ loves  _ that voice. 

“Hm?” He looks at Patrick, who smiles.. 

“Do you like it?” Patrick asks. His voice is gentler and David hears what Patrick’s trying to ask. 

“Yes,” David wraps his hand around the back of Patrick’s neck and pulls him into a kiss. It’s supposed to be sweet and gentle, but the box is solid in David’s other hand and Patrick tilts their heads just so and then he’s licking into David’s mouth. 

He thought this was going to be a ‘ _ later this evening’  _ thing, but it can definitely be a  _ ‘now’  _ thing. David is very amenable to that—actually, it’s preferred. It’s been a while since he had the privacy to use one, and he knows how capable Patrick is at taking him apart. Patrick with a prostate massager in hand might just be the death of him.

“David,” Patrick’s voice is a whisper and David feels like Patrick is going to stop whatever is going to happen to talk about dinner. But this is a moment to forget about dinner. David has a prostate massager in his hand and he’s pretty sure that Patrick’s going to press it into David. 

“Hm?” David hums as he moves into Patrick’s space. If he can get into Patrick’s space, then the odds of Patrick insisting on dinner are lowered. 

“David,” Patrick’s voice is almost a warning, but David just needs to get his leg over Patrick’s and settle on his lap. He’s almost there.  _ So close.  _ “David.”

Patrick’s hands are tight on David’s hips and he knows he’s lost. Fine. He can wait until dinner. Waiting is part of the thrill, right?

“We’re not using it tonight.”

That’s… David shakes his head. Patrick is still looking at him and hasn’t said  _ ‘just kidding’  _ so David shakes his head again for good measure. 

“I’m sorry, I think I heard you wrong?” David asks, his voice getting higher than he’d like. That’s the only logical explanation. 

“No, you heard me right,” Patrick smirks and his hands are on David’s shoulders and pushing him back into his chair. “I wanted to show you this, so you know we have it.”

That’s a new form of cruel. His boyfriend is a nice person, but he gets off on teasing David, and it’s not fair. 

“We’re not going to use it tonight,” Patrick shifts forward in his seat and he’s so close to David. David can smell the cologne that Patrick uses, the bergamot based one they sell in the store that leaves a trail of  _ Patrick  _ when Patrick walks past. “We’re going to use it tomorrow.”

David lets Patrick take the box from his fingers. He feels like if he holds it for another minute, he’s going to rip the box open, run into the bathroom and lock the new door so Patrick can’t take it away from him. It’s been too long. 

“I have a plan that I think you’ll like,” Patrick’s finger is gentle underneath David’s chin and tilts his head up just slightly. “Wanna hear it?”

“Mmm, yes,” David breathes. He can feel the confidence and gentle dom energy radiating off of Patrick. 

“You’re going to heat up dinner; the lasagna in the fridge,” There’s a thud as Patrick places the box on the table. David tries to hold back the shudder as Patrick glances at the fridge. Patrick knows that David has no idea how to  _ ‘heat up a lasagna’,  _ but David knows that Patrick’s going to lead him through it and it’ll be okay. “Then, afterwards, we’re going to go sit on the couch.”

David likes where this is going. 

“You’re going to get me nice and hard,” Patrick breaks off with a hitched breath. “Then you’re going to suck my cock.”

“Mhm,” David wants that. That’s perfect. He’ll suck Patrick’s cock, and maybe Patrick will pull his hair. 

“You like that baby?” Patrick asks. There’s a sharp tug on David’s hair and his eyes flutter open in surprise—when did they close? “You’d do it now if I let you, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” David hisses. He’s about to slide off his seat and somehow get himself between Patrick’s legs—the table is in the way—but Patrick holds him steady.

“David, you need to wait and listen,” Patrick’s grip is tight and David loves it. He loves it so much when Patrick makes him wait and listen. 

“I’m listening,” David nods and holds himself still. He needs Patrick to finish talking, so they can get  _ on _ with it. But first, he needs to prove to Patrick that he’s listening.

“Yeah, you are,” Patrick whispers, his thumb is light on David’s bottom lip. “After I come, you can come, but you have to jerk yourself off.”

Patrick is smirking and David feels his heart sink through his stomach as he realizes what Patrick’s doing. 

“So you want me to jerk off, while you watch, when you know what  _ all of this,”  _ David waves a hand between them, over the new prostate massager, and then back between them just for good measure. “Does to me.”

“Yeah,” Patrick quirks a smile at him. “When I talk like this, you need more than just a handjob, don’t you, David? You get so worked up when I tell you what to do, that the only thing that will satisfy you is getting fucked hard.”

“Mhm,” David feels like he’s going to crawl out of his skin. 

“So you’re going to come tonight,” Patrick continued. “But it’s not going to be enough and you’re going to be frustrated.”

David’s already frustrated. 

“And then you’re going to spend the next 24 hours thinking about how badly you need to come again. Then tomorrow night, I’ll let you come with that buried inside you,” Patrick’s smile is teasing and David’s not sure...about any of this. He wants it, though. He wants the discomfort. “You can safeword out at any point between now and after you come tomorrow.”

“Okay,” David whispers, because he can’t trust his voice not to crack by speaking louder. 

“What’s your safeword, David?” Patrick always makes sure to ask when they’re starting something like this and David loves him so much for it. 

“Lavender,” David still can’t talk louder than a whisper. 

“Perfect.”

*

It’s a lot. They’re only a small portion into this whole thing and David’s on fire. He feels a myriad of emotions that he can’t name and the only thing he can focus on, is the feeling of Patrick’s cock on his tongue.

Patrick is making those little gasps and sighs that David  _ loves.  _ His hands are in David’s hair and he’s pulling it the way that David also  _ loves.  _ And it’s slowly starting to dawn on David how  _ fucked _ he is in this situation. He’s aching for overstimulation and he can’t stop thinking about the prostate massager that Patrick placed on the coffee table on full display. 

Maybe, if he makes it really good, Patrick will amend his plans.

“David,” Patrick’s thumb presses against where his lips create a seam around Patrick’s cock. “I need you to focus. Gotta focus now so you can have that tomorrow night.”

He makes a sound that’s supposed to be an affirmation, but how it comes out embarrasses him. He’s going to make Patrick come hard, and then David’s going to come and then it’s going to be okay. It’s going to be good. 

David feels his brain start to go a little fuzzy around the edges, the way it always does when his body decides that all it can focus on is pleasure. Patrick’s moans are loud and Patrick feels good, hot and heavy on his tongue, and he cries out as David takes him deep, then deeper, impossibly deep as his hands run over his balls, his perineum and then to stroke over his hole. 

Patrick likes it like this. Just a little dry, a little tease, while he’s getting sucked. It’s enough to—

Patrick comes in his mouth with a shout and David swallows as Patrick empties into him. It’s marvelous. It’s everything. 

David is so hard; he can barely think. 

“David, touch yourself,” Patrick gasps as David licks up his spent cock. “Need to watch you come.”

David moves immediately onto the couch and he can’t get his pants open fast enough. He sees the massager on the table and he wants it, wants it in him, wants to give his body over to the waves of pleasure, but he  _ can’t.  _

“You want it, don’t you David?” Patrick asks. He shifts closer to David’s side and David gasps as he wraps a hand around his cock. “Answer me, baby.”

“Yeah,” David isn’t sure what he wants, but he wants it. All of it. Whatever Patrick’s offering. 

“You can’t have the massager tonight,” Patrick murmurs and  _ oh fuck _ , yeah he wants that. 

“Fuck,” David murmurs. His hand feels good, but it’s not the massager. And he wants that. Now that Patrick’s mentioned it, David wants it. So badly and he can’t think of anything else. 

“Tomorrow. Show me how you can come tonight,” Patrick whispers, his mouth close to David’s ear, breath hot and a little moist and David can’t handle that. “Come for me baby, then you can have the massager tomorrow.”

“Patrick!” David gasps. He presses his eyes closed and just focuses on the feel of his hand on his cock, on making himself feel good _.  _ He’s going to come and it’s not enough, because he knows what he actually wants. But he’s going to come and it’s going to feel so  _ good.  _

“Tomorrow, baby,” Patrick says as David comes, his hand not even close to what he wanted.  _ Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.  _ “Tomorrow, I’ll use the massager to make you come.”

He feels frustrated when he leans back into the sofa. But it’s not enough. The desire is still burning in him and he needs more. David opens his eyes to the vision of Patrick’s smirk and  _ fuck.  _ Tomorrow can’t come soon enough. 

*

When he wakes up, he thinks that  _ maybe  _ he has this all under control. It’s just a work day. Not that long. 

It’s long. Very long.

Patrick’s doesn’t tease him. Not once throughout the day does he do anything that is meant to drive David wild. But by the end of the day, David is  _ ready.  _

He’s hard as soon as they step into the apartment. It’s been on his mind all day. 

“Dinner?” Patrick asks and David feels a small part of him die a little inside. 

“Uh,” David tries to rack his brain for how he should respond. What answer is Patrick looking for? Is Patrick going to make him wait even more? 

“David?” Patrick’s hands reach up and David’s eyes flutter closed as they tickle along David’s jaw. 

“Yeah?” David whispers in response. 

“I’m joking,” Patrick teases. There’s a dangerous glint to his eyes and David just knows, can feel it in his toes, that tonight is going to be  _ fun.  _ “Take off your clothes.”

“Yes,” David’s ready. Patrick moves with him as he goes to the bed, and his fingers still David’s just as David’s about to pull off his sweater. He wants to protest, because he needs to be naked  _ now _ , and how dare Patrick keep him from it for another second. 

“Take your clothes off slow,” Patrick let’s go of him and David can’t help but feel torn. He wants Patrick’s hands back on him, holding him in place so he can’t do anything, but he also  _ needs  _ to get naked. 

“Okay,” David whispers. He peels off his sweater slowly, eyes still focused on Patrick. He grips it tightly while shimmying his shoulders at Patrick. “Want to watch me fold it?”

“You know I do,” Patrick says from the living room. He’s on the edge of the couch, eyes focused on David’s hands and David wants to roll his eyes at his boyfriend. He loves it. 

He takes his time, folding his sweater. He makes sure each crease is perfect and it goes into his bag. Next he sits at the end of the bed and before he can reach down and untie his shoes, Patrick’s there, his fingers slip into the loop of his laces and he’s pulling, eyes focused on David’s face. 

“Can I, David?” Patrick asks. But he’s already doing it. David nods, his mouth dry as Patrick pulls the high top off his foot. The sock goes next. Then the next shoe and David’s barefoot, still fully clothed. Patrick’s fingers tickle at his ankle. “Keep going.”

Patrick backs up and David feels like he’s on fire. He stands up and pulls off his undershirt and gives it the same treatment as the sweater, stepping around Patrick who is still kneeling on the floor, to put it in his bag. 

The pants are next and he’s fully hard as he pushes them down his legs. The soft, throbbing ache he’s been feeling for Patrick all day has turned into something that can no longer be ignored. 

“Briefs too,” Patrick’s voice is hoarse; David loves it. Loves when Patrick is like this. Like David does it for him, that David is enough. His briefs go straight into the hamper. Patrick’s still kneeling, and even though David towers over him, he knows that Patrick’s in charge of tonight and he’ll decide when David gets to have the massager. 

Patrick’s holding the massager and David  _ wants  _ it. He nods towards the bed and David moves, lets Patrick arrange his limbs until he’s laid back, his feet flat on the bed with a pillow propped under his hips. 

“Patrick, I need you to fuck me,” That’s an understatement, but David can’t form better words. He needs it now. He needed it last night. “Please, I need it.”

“Let me get the lube,” Patrick whispers. His hands are hot on David’s skin as he moves to grab the lube from the nightstand. 

David takes a deep breath. He waited this long, he can wait another few minutes. He wants the massager in him  _ immediately  _ but he can wait a few more minutes so Patrick can prep him. 

“Gonna finger you open, David. Going to get you just how I want you,” Patrick’s voice is sure and soft, teasing while telling David exactly what he is gonna do for him. David watches with wide eyes as Patrick gets off the bed. That’s the opposite of what he needs! 

“Then come back here,” David’s reaching for him, but Patrick steps back further from his reach. 

“Need to take my clothes off, and you need to be good.” Patrick explains and  _ yes,  _ that’s something else he needs. David watches as Patrick takes off his clothes, tossing them straight into the hamper. Patrick’s back quickly, and David’s never been more grateful for Patrick’s efficiency. 

Every bit of David was humming for Patrick, who was finally kneeling between David’s spread legs, the bottle of lube open in his hand. He can barely keep still as Patrick spreads lube over his fingers and even though he’s watching Patrick, a gasp is still torn from his chest as Patrick presses a slick fingertip against David’s rim. 

“Yes,” David hisses. His eyes slip closed as Patrick teases him. The last 24 hours of yearning for tonight seep out of his body as Patrick pushes into him. Every moment of  _ want _ pushes against his skin as Patrick presses into him. 

It’s good. It’s  _ so  _ good. It’s always like this. Patrick took the time to learn David’s body in a way no one else has. Even just Patrick’s fingers are magical. 

Patrick stretches him open, and David’s blissed out brain supplies the image of Patrick’s fingers plucking at the strings of his guitar, playing a beautiful melody, just like he’s playing David. Except David’s making noises that he hates, and should feel ashamed about, as Patrick teases his prostate. 

“Patrick, Patrick please,” David begs. He opens his eyes and focuses on Patrick, who smiles up at him and tells him to  _ ‘breathe David, relax.’  _ Which is not as helpful as Patrick thinks it is. 

“I’m going to put the massager in you now,” Patrick explains. 

“Finally,” David stretches and digs his fingers into the pillow beneath his head. There’s a blunt pressure against his hole and then the massager is in him, nestled deep and right against his prostate. “So good.”

“Yeah?” Patrick’s voice is thin and David blinks his eyes open. He has to watch Patrick, wants to see the flush that colors his chest when he watches David. “I’m going to turn it on now. Can I turn it on now?”

David just nods, then lets out a low groan as the vibrations start. It’s good, it’s too good, and Patrick’s biting his lip and clenching his fists hard. David can barely handle it, but then Patrick’s fingers are moving where his hand is clenching around the remote by his hip and the vibrations  _ increase  _ and oh, David’s going to come. He can feel the pressure building, can feel the way his prostate is absorbing each vibration and sending it up his spine until David’s stupid from it, out of his mind with pleasure. 

“Touch me, Patrick, please,” David shudders through a prostate orgasm, finally, and it’s just as good as he remembers, and it takes every bit of effort to keep his eyes open and trained on Patrick. He wants to watch Patrick, loves watching him watch David come and shudder with pleasure. Patrick watches him like it’s the hottest thing and it feels good to be watched like that. 

Patrick’’s hands are skimming up David’s thighs, tickling at the hairs there. 

David’s still hard, the massager isn’t quite enough to fully make him come, but Patrick’s fingers are circling the base of his cock and David can’t hold his body still—he doesn’t know if he even wants to. 

But Patrick is chanting something and it’s barely registering in his mind that Patrick’s talking to him, but he tunes in just enough to realize that Patrick’s talking about preparing himself. 

“Gonna ride you,” Patrick says as he puts down the remote and reaches for the lube. 

David’s not going to survive. He can barely handle the massager, still vibrating inside him, he doesn’t even know how much longer he can take the intense pleasure of it. And now, adding the tightness of Patrick’s hole around his cock? It’s too much. Patrick’s going to be the death of him and he wants it so bad. 

He watches with wide eyes as Patrick fingers himself open, and it seems to happen too quickly. He isn’t prepared enough, but David can’t say anything. His mind is a scrambled mess and trying to hold onto the rollercoaster that is this night. 

He doesn’t even think he can hold still enough for Patrick to ride him, but then Patrick’s straddling his thighs and then reaching underneath him. His fingers are slick on David’s cock and it’s  _ so good.  _ Too good. David’s not going to last long, but Patrick’s cock is thick and a little redder than David’s ever seen it, so maybe he’s also not going to last long. 

Patrick lowers himself onto David and David can’t— he can’t handle it. Patrick’s too tight, moaning too sweetly above him and it’s too heavenly. His weight is pining David down, forcing him still and he can’t move to relieve some of the pleasure on his prostate, but he doesn’t care. 

He’s drowning in sensations, the vibration of the massager and his boyfriend so tight around him and he so desperately needs to come again. 

Patrick’s moving over him and David’s brain is mush, it’s soup that’s boiling, about to overflow and Patrick’s murmuring something above him. 

“David, David, David,” Patrick pants and David can’t—

He hears the words, but he can’t place them.  _ David.  _ David? What? Who?

David comes with an explosion as he realizes— _ he  _ is David—and Patrick’s crying out as David fills him with his come and David can feel the wetness on his cheeks. When did he start crying?

He can’t look away from Patrick, whose head is thrown back, and his hand is flying on his cock and then he’s coming,  _ hard.  _ He’s coating David’s chest with his come and David’s still shaking from the vibrations on his prostate and it’s too much. His hands fly up and grip the headboard as wave after wave of overstimulated pleasure rips through him. 

He’s making the  _ worst _ noises, but he doesn’t care. Patrick’s still grinding his hips on David and David wants to safeword out, he can’t take the pleasure anymore, but he also wants more. Just a few more seconds. 

Once Patrick stills above him, David’s crying out  _ “Lavender!” _

Patrick lifts himself from David as quickly as he can and presses at a button on the remote. The vibrations stop and he pulls the toy slowly out of David and lays his body right on top of David’s, just how David likes in these moments, when it’s all a little too much and he needs something to ground him. 

“David,” Patrick whispers against David’s ear. His brain is still coming back online and it takes him a second to realize, again, that  _ oh yes, that’s him, he’s David.  _ “David, I love you.”

Patrick presses kiss after kiss into David’s skin and David feels the giggles working their way up his body. He needs to giggle, and then he’s going to tell Patrick about how Patrick fucked him so good, he forgot his own name. Twice. 

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pinching is the absolute worst. David loves it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to my dear friends for letting me play with them. The misunderstanding that happens in this may or may not be based on one that happened in our group DM for this fic. I blame that entirely for this being the longest damn chapter in this thing.

The thing is, David kind of hates being pinched. It’s _annoying._ David likes pain, but pinches are painful in a brief, concentrated way that’s hard to really sink into. On the other hand, being pinched makes his cock hard pretty much instantly. All Patrick needs to do is grab a bit of flesh between two fingers and squeeze, and he basically has David panting. When he learns this information, he goes a bit wild with it for a while.

David can admit that his sweaters are kind of a defence mechanism, but he didn’t used to mean that so literally. He’s pretty sure, if it were easier for him to do so, that for the last month Patrick would’ve spent half the day pinching him in passing, just to rile him up. As it is, he still spends plenty of time doing so, he just needs to be a bit more creative to get around the fabric David drapes himself in.

Which is not to say that he wouldn’t stop if David asked him to. David wouldn’t even need to explain, or safeword, considering it’s happening outside the bedroom, just give some indication that he didn’t want it to happen beyond the glares that are clearly diminished by his arousal. If only David actually _wanted_ Patrick to stop, it would be so easy to make him do so, but the attention is heady and there’s something addictive about the sharp sensation.

David has said “you are a menace” and “this is incorrect” and—his new favourite—“is that any way to treat your future husband?” but he knows, and Patrick knows, that none of the things he has said in response to pinching in their day to day life actually mean “stop doing that”. 

As far as the pinching _in_ the bedroom goes, there are some nights where things go a certain way and David says “why are you doing this?” and “I hate it” and “I can’t take it anymore”, but Patrick knows that David doesn’t want him to stop, that he wants to be _pushed_. David’s favourite thing to hate about pinches is how many bruises they can leave, when Patrick really gets into it. 

After a day in which Patrick has really gone above and beyond to get at David, like a crab with a vendetta, David is expecting they’ll have one of those nights of Patrick’s hands all over him. Instead they’re sat on the sofa making out when Patrick pulls back, looks at David, and says:

“I want to zipline you.”

David experiences a sensation like his brain is buffering because... what? He would _never_ have expected to hear that from Patrick. And okay, David would seriously do anything for him—including the sort of highly dubious activity he’s been pretty happy to have sworn off in recent years, if not exactly initially by choice—but... "I don’t even know where to _find_ cocaine here, Patrick."

Patrick looks confused, which is ridiculous. Does he really think David has access to a dealer out here in the sticks?

"Seriously, half my weed comes from the floor of a motel room and you want me to find decent quality _coke_?”

Patrick holds up his hands in penance. “I’m going to need you to explain what exactly just happened here.”

David frowns; it seems obvious. “You said you wanted to zipline me?”

Patrick nods slowly. “And what did you understand me to mean by that?”

David suddenly suspects there has been a breakdown in communication here and he averts his eyes from Patrick. The problem with that is, it causes him to catch sight of a pile of clothespins and string sitting in the bedroom area, which he might have noticed earlier if he hadn’t been so distracted by Patrick’s homemade fish tacos. He’s certain that Patrick hadn’t meant what David thought he did. 

“It doesn’t matter what I thought, you meant the clothespin thing, right?” He tries to sound light and airy as he gestures to the bedside table. He can’t help but add—“But, I thought that was called a zipper?”

Patrick frowns. “I’m pretty sure the terms are interchangeable, but I’m going to need to know what _you_ were talking about.”

“Hmm?” David always knows he’s lost when he’s reduced to pretending he doesn’t know what Patrick’s referring to.

Patrick takes David’s hands and doesn’t speak until David meets his eyes, because he _is_ a menace. “David, please tell me what ziplining means to you, or I’m just going to end up googling it.”

That idea is even more alarming than the idea of having to say what he’d thought, of giving Patrick that sort of insight into his former life. “Um, it can sometimes mean...” David cannot look at Patrick while he says this. “Snorting cocaine off someone’s erection.”

There’s a slight noise, and David isn’t sure it’s what he thinks it is, but then it gets louder and he forces himself to look at Patrick and—yup—he’s not even trying to hold back his laughter at this point. David wants to pout at him, but he can feel a bubble of amusement rising, so he hides his face in his hands instead.

“It’s not that funny,” he feels the need to say.

Patrick’s eyes go soft even as he’s still trying to get himself until control. “Sorry, sorry, I know it isn’t—” He takes a few deep breaths. “Wait, was your only objection getting hold of the drugs?”

David shrugs dramatically. “I mean, I wasn’t _in love_ with the idea, but if it was going to fulfil some fantasy of yours, I’d at least consider it.”

Patrick kisses him far more gently than David feels is warranted, but he’s not going to complain.

“So about the, um, clothespins, thing?” David asks.

Patrick smiles wryly. “We’ve maybe ruined the mood for that for today.”

“Oh.” Now, of course, David’s pout comes freely, without him being able to stop it. 

“Unless, of course,” Patrick says, eyes glittering, “you want to? I know how much you love pinching.”

David does his best to glare at Patrick. “I mean, I _just said_ I would consider doing most things if you really wanted to.”

Patrick’s frown is clearly fake as he says, “Oh but, David, I only really want to do what _you_ want. If it’s just for me I’m not really interested.”

David rolls his eyes, because the worst thing about the nonsense Patrick’s saying is that it’s true. “But what if I get enjoyment out of _your_ enjoyment?”

Patrick taps his lips thoughtfully. “Hmm, well it’s a lot of effort to go to, when you could get ‘enjoyment’ from my ‘enjoyment’ of so many things.” Air quotes are condescending at the best of times, but _these_ are next level.

David huffs, hating that Patrick absolutely has him on this one. They aren’t going to do this unless David actually admits he wants to. This isn’t the first time that David wishes he could list 'kink negotiation' as a hard limit without it resulting in Patrick never domming him again. “Ugh, you’re such an asshole,” he grumbles.

Patrick recoils dramatically, with a hand to his chest. “Well, now! That seems awfully harsh, I’m just trying to make sure we both have the best time we can.” He’s doing a terrible job of hiding how much he’s enjoying himself. On one hand, it’s very annoying how much it turns David on when Patrick gets like this, but on the other, it’s the backbone of their relationship.

“I want you to do the fucking zipline, okay?” David knows his damn dimple is betraying how charmed he is, but Patrick always looks so fucking happy when he gets David to admit to something like this.

Of course, the joy is quickly followed by a smirk. “But David, I thought you couldn’t get hold of the cocaine?”

“The fucking clothespins one!” 

Patrick smiles so sweetly. “Oh, isn’t that called a zipper?”

David glares, knowing his amusement shows through it. “The name of it really isn’t the point here.”

“Well, in that case—” Patrick pulls David in for a fierce kiss “—why don’t you get naked and wait for me on the bed?”

David is torn between his desire to cross his arms with a scowl and his desire to shimmy. He ends up doing something that is simultaneously both and neither before following Patrick’s instructions. He takes his time getting out of his clothes, but doesn’t try to draw it out artificially. Waiting naked for Patrick had been difficult for him, at first, but now he relishes this; luxuriating in his bare skin against the high quality sheets he had convinced Patrick to buy, while Patrick tends to the domestic tasks of cleaning up after dinner.

It has become a little bit of a tradition before a scene, one that started a little while after Patrick moved. He likes making David wait, likes using mundane tasks to centre himself. David has come to enjoy being on display, something he hated so many times in the past. Here he feels so precious and cared for there isn’t room to feel self conscious. He also likes that it means he doesn’t have to do any of that night’s cleaning, though that’s just a bonus.

Eventually, Patrick comes over; he’s undone another couple buttons on his shirt, and the sleeves are cuffed to his forearms. David should probably be used to how appallingly good he looks like this, but it still leaves him breathless. Patrick looks David up and down with a smirk, taking his time to blatantly examine David’s body. 

David’s cock, mostly soft, firms up a bit under this scrutiny—so intense it almost feels like a touch. He never used to be willing to be naked and on display with a partner unless he had an erection, but the satisfaction Patrick gets from watching him get hard is difficult to resist.

“Come here,” Patrick says, sliding the chest out of the way so he can stand at the foot of the bed. 

David shifts forwards until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, at which point Patrick grabs a handful of his hair and kisses him forcefully. David has zero issue with Patrick’s height, but he definitely enjoys it when they’re in a position like this, where Patrick can loom over him.

On nights like this, Patrick kisses David in the sort of proprietary way that leaves David’s head spinning; he takes control and expects David to come along for the ride. It took a lot of work to convince Patrick that sometimes pretending that he doesn’t give a fuck about David’s pleasure is what will get him off the hardest, but once he understood he committed hard. Patrick has hold of David’s head and moves it where he wants, not giving David any warning before he tugs it around to the side so he can tug at David’s earlobe with his teeth.

“What’s your safeword, David?” Patrick asks softly, with a thread of steel in his voice. No one David’s been with has ever made a safeword check-in as hot as Patrick does.

“Lavender,” David gasps out.

“Good,” Patrick whispers, before placing a kiss on David’s neck so softly he barely feels it. “You promise to use it if you need to?”

David nods, but then he remembers that he needs to use words for this; that’s what Patrick wants from him. “Yes, I promise.”

Patrick makes a hum of pleasure in response, but David can hardly let himself enjoy that noise before he feels a quick, sharp pinch on his chest, just next to his nipple. He hadn’t even realised it was coming and it pulls a groan from deep within him.

Patrick lets go of David’s head and steps backwards and David sways towards him as if drawn by a magnet. He’s not even embarrassed how obvious he is, because it makes something delicious light up in Patrick’s eyes. David grips his right hand against the edge of the bed slightly, just so he can enjoy the feeling of his rings and what they mean. It’s still unbelievable to him that Patrick wants to be his husband.

“Lie back on the bed,” Patrick says. David rolls his eyes slightly, to get a reaction out of him. “Do you have a problem with that?”

David smiles sweetly. “Of course not, just feels like I was already doing that a minute ago.”

Patrick raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t take David’s bait. He takes a step further back and just waits, doesn’t bother repeating the order.

David feels a familiar little thrill run through him, that he can talk back and not get treated like he’s defective for it. He does a little wiggle as he moves back on the bed and it makes a sweet smile break through on Patrick’s face. Once his head hits the pillows, David collapses back with a wink. “This acceptable?”

Patrick takes another long look up and down David’s body, lingering on his cock which is a lot closer to hard than it was before. “That’s perfect.”

The words send a delighted shiver through David. Patrick definitely notices, if his increased smirk is anything to go by. He walks around the bed to pick up the carefully coiled pile of thin rope and clothespins. “Do you want a surprise, or shall I tell you the plan?”

David thinks about it. He definitely has days where he wants to allow things to happen without him knowing, maybe even be blindfolded for them, but this isn’t one of those. For all the things he has done in his life, and the clamps he has had on his body, he’s never actually experienced this. He suspects he would have, had someone come across a beautiful, expensive version, but the way it’s usually done is a bit too home-made for his previous crowd.

“Tell me the plan.”

Patrick smiles, the way he does when he’s pleased with David for taking him time to answer, not just saying whatever he thinks Patrick wants. He drops the zipline and bends across the bed to give David a gentle kiss as a reward. David tries to deepen it when Patrick starts to pull back—grips Patrick’s neck to hold him in place—but that just leads to a _hmm_ of disappointment.

Patrick uses one hand to pull David’s off his neck and his other to push himself back up to standing. “First of all, I suspect we’ll need to cuff those hands of yours, to keep them out of trouble.” He looks at David, giving him an out if he wants it, but David just puts his hands up to hold onto the bars of the headboard and nods. “Then, I plan to warm you up a bit—” he demonstrates this with a sharp pinch to David’s side “—before I start putting these on you,” he says, picking up the coil again. “How does that sound?”

David squirms a little, deeply aware of the effect this is having on his cock, and even more aware of the fact that said cock hadn’t got a mention in it. “Am I going to get to come?” He doesn’t always, when they play, though usually Patrick isn’t able to resist letting David have the pleasure of release.

Patrick grins but then puts on an exaggerated thinking face. “Oh, well, I hadn’t thought about that.”

David glares, because he’s absolutely certain that isn’t true. 

“How about this?” Patrick trails a finger lightly down David’s body, pausing as he approaches David’s dick, which twitches under the attention like it’s reaching for him. “After I put the zipline on, I’m going to suck your dick. You aren’t allowed to come until I pull the zipline off, but I’m not going to give you long once I do. If you manage it, I’ll be happy to swallow all that come—” He pins David with a dangerous look “—but if you don’t give me that, I’ll be very disappointed and you won’t be coming until tomorrow.”

David’s glad he’s already holding on to the headboard to focus himself, otherwise he’d probably have a hand on his cock right now. Patrick’s looking at him like he knows every thought that exists in David’s head and all David can do is whine and squirm in response. 

“Does that plan work for you?” Patrick’s voice is calm and measured, but David can see he’s starting to get hard in his tight jeans.

“Yes, please, yes,” David says, trying to pull himself together. It is ridiculous how turned on he can get just from Patrick _talking_.

Patrick is gentle and sweet as he gets the cuffs on David’s wrists and attaches them to the headboard. There is something almost meditative about this, the process of getting everything into place. However sweet Patrick is, the cuffs are always just the right amount of tight and set up so that David isn’t able to free himself. He knows that Patrick can get them open easily if he needs to, but that David will need his help always sends a dark thrill through him.

Once that’s done, Patrick lies on his side next to David on the bed and kisses him. Having Patrick next to him, still mostly buttoned up and fully dressed while David is completely naked, makes him nervous in the delicious way. It’s impossible to ignore, because he can feel Patrick’s clothes against his skin every time either of them move.

Patrick runs his hands along David’s skin delicately. It’s all too soft and David squirms, trying to get Patrick to touch him harder, kiss him deeper, even though he knows that won’t work. It’s only when he settles down and just lets it happen that Patrick finally slides a nail down the sensitive skin on the inside of David’s arm. 

David groans—he’s been so focused on the soft touches that he doesn’t expect it—and then Patrick’s other hand pinches viciously at the skin over his hip. Without thinking about it, David grunts into Patrick’s mouth and moves away from the pinching hand. Patrick tuts at him and then he starts. He pinches David all over, hands moving so that if David watches where one hand is going, he still can’t see the other, so he just closes his eyes and experiences it. David’s squirming a lot—always trying to get out of reach—and he loves that Patrick isn’t making him be still. That Patrick has no doubt in his own control herel, even as David tries to avoid him.

“You’re such an asshole,” David groans out, when Patrick lands a particular nasty pinch in his armpit, and Patrick just laughs. David opens his eyes to glare at him properly, but it’s hard to hold a glare when Patrick looks so delighted.

The thing about pinching is: it’s annoying, and frustrating, and painful, and David fucking _loves_ it. And Patrick knows that. 

Patrick doesn’t stop slowly, over time, instead he goes from reaching all over David—grabbing bits of flesh and digging his nails in—to not touching him at all in a second. It actually takes him a moment to realise Patrick’s stopped, because he’s panting so hard, riding so high on adrenaline, that the signals take a while to reach his brain. 

“What?” he asks, before he can stop himself, which means he has to deal with the smug grin Patrick wears when he knows he’s managed to make David completely lose track of the world. It’s one of David’s favourite Patrick-expressions, but he’s trying to keep that information close to the chest.

Patrick holds up the zipline. “Shall we?”

David’s cock—which by now is hard and leaking, despite the fact that Patrick hasn’t so much as brushed against it—jerks, releases a dribble of precome onto David’s belly. Despite Patrick absolutely noticing this happen, David does his best to sound unaffected as he replies, “If you must.”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “I thought you were done pretending you didn’t want this?”

David wishes his face wouldn’t insist on smiling at Patrick at moments like these, but he grows less able to stop it every day, so he leans into it. “Oh, Patrick, my love, my future husband, please, oh _please_ won’t you truss me up like a washing line?” 

David’s tone is deeply sarcastic, but Patrick still looks lit up by it, like it really was some grand romantic statement. That’s the problem with teasing Patrick back, sometimes. He just soaks in the love behind it, without the decency to pretend he doesn’t know it’s there.

“In that case,” Patrick says, and clips the first clothespin right onto David’s left nipple. The pain is sharp and then throbbing, turning to a constant awareness as Patrick clips the next clothespin on the flesh of his pec. David hisses through his teeth, but doesn’t have much time before the next goes on. 

Patrick’s hands on his body aren’t gentle, or harsh; it’s more like David’s just an object for him to assess. David loves it, being ignored when he whines and squirms. Patrick’s eyes have a gleam—because he’s always aware of exactly what David’s doing, even when he pretends he isn’t—but otherwise it appears that his attention is on nothing except finding the perfect location for each clothespin on the line.

Each one adds another point of pain, but also dilutes it somehow. Every point where they’re pinching David is a throbbing ache, but there are too many to focus on each of them separately. David can float on the feeling, one that is so all-consuming that everything else in his head goes away, with the occasional bright-sharp point of Patrick adding another clothespin. He’s not even squirming or complaining any more, just letting it happen, allowing Patrick to move his body as he wishes.

That is, until a clothespin is added right between his balls. David arches off the bed, trying to get away from the sensation, but it, of course, just comes with him—not to mention increasing the tension on the string between the clothespins, making them all tug at his skin. Patrick rubs David’s leg gently, making soothing noises. 

“Is that too much?” he asks, reaching as though to take it off.

David shakes his head to stop him and forces himself to relax into the sensation. It’s a lot—a step up in pain from the clothespins on his nipples—but in a way he’s so unused to. Patrick has maybe tugged on his balls a little roughly before, but never something quite like this. David looks at the trail of clothespins down his body and realises that was the last one. He loves the way it looks, all these points that Patrick has chosen to focus on, like he’s left placeholders all over David because he doesn’t have enough hands.

The throbbing of the clothespin between his legs blends with and heightens all the other points of sensation, along with the desperate ache in his dick, which has leaked so much by now that precome is sliding off the line of David’s hip. “Leave it on.” David’s well past the point of pretence now. The only thing left is the feelings in his body and the certainty that Patrick will look after him.

Patrick smiles softly and bends to kiss him. It’s slow, but firm, Patrick taking control and letting David lay back and kiss without coordination. Patrick pulls away with a bite to David’s lower lip and says, “Now I believe I promised you a cock-sucking.”

David moans and nods, unable to help shifting his hips up mindlessly, sucking in a breath through his teeth as he realises the way that tugs on the clothespins over his body.

Patrick moves between David’s legs, stroking up his thighs gently. “I’m going to suck you for ten minutes, then the clothespins are coming off. You promise not to come until then?”

David nods and manages to say, “Yes, I promise,” and it’s a matter of seconds before Patrick’s mouth is on him. He might have expected Patrick to start slowly, to let it build up a bit, but instead he goes straight for sucking on the head in a way that drives David crazy. With how long he’s been turned on by this point, if he let himself he could come within a couple of minutes, but. That’s not what they’re doing.

The clothespins are the most effective restraint to stop David from thrusting his hips he has ever experienced. Every time he moves at all they tug, and it’s good, but it doesn’t take much movement at all to turn the sensation into _too much_. He does his best to stay still and think of things that will keep him from coming, but he knows that he’s making constant noises, whining and groaning without holding back.

When Patrick removes his mouth, David whines and looks down at him, even though the visual is too good, with Patrick still stroking him with his hand. “I’m going to take off this clothespin now,” Patrick says, touching the clothespin between David’s balls so gently, but still sending a wave of sensation through his whole body. “Then in one minute, I’m going to remove the rest and get my mouth back on you. If you haven’t come by the time I decide to stop, you don’t get to come tonight. I hope that doesn’t have to happen; I’m really looking forward to swallowing your come.”

David whines piteously. He doesn’t think he’ll have any problem coming, but the pressure of living up to Patrick’s expectations of him is powerful. At this moment there is nothing that David wants more than giving Patrick what he wants, so it’s probably lucky that Patrick’s only asking him to come, rather than some sort of illegal activity.

The clothespin coming off his balls is a moment of relief followed by intense pain as blood rushes back to that part of his body. Then Patrick’s mouth is back on him and the contrasting sensations are so intense that David has to clench his teeth to stop himself going over the edge. The last minute feels like forever, but then Patrick’s sitting up and pulling the string so the clothespins pop off David, one after the other in quick succession.

The last has barely come off before Patrick is on him again. The rush of blood coming back to so many places at once is intense—it might be the most intense painplay David’s ever done while completely sober—but the way Patrick’s sucking his cock turns all the sensation into a delicious all-consuming high. He has no trouble coming in the time limit, doesn’t even think about it, lets himself go so completely he almost blacks out.

He drifts in a space between worlds for a while, only coming back to Earth when someone shakes his shoulder gently and says something. It’s not just _someone_ though, it’s Patrick, even if whatever he’s saying seems to be some sort of gibberish.

“What’s that mean?”

Patrick smiles, which is the very best thing. “I was saying your name, David.”

His brain has connected enough to understand the words now and he laughs. Can’t laugh too much, because he’s still all floaty, but definitely makes some sort of noise. Patrick laughs, too, which is maybe even better than the smiling.

“I need you to drink some water,” he says, wiggling a bottle.

David grumbles, but sits up enough to grab the bottle and drink it in a few gulps before collapsing back down. It’s only then he realises that he hadn’t even noticed Patrick removing his cuffs.

Patrick grins fondly and gives David a kiss on the cheek. “I’m going to put some cream on you and hold you a bit, but after that I’d like you to eat some fruit.”

Patrick’s so _nice_. Even when he’s telling David what to do it’s nice things, like orgasms and snacks. David nods and doesn’t feel the need to come out of his half-drifting state while Patrick rubs the cream from their store into his body, even very delicately rubbing some over David’s balls.

He’s not sure how long Patrick holds him after that before David remembers the promise of food. “Fruit?” he asks, still not in a mood to use many words.

It’s only when David’s sitting up and watching Patrick walk to the fridge to get a plate of chopped fruit, which he must have prepared earlier, that David realises he’s naked. David shakes himself into a greater awareness of the world, still holding onto a corner of the blanket of calm he’s been under. “Wait, when did you take your clothes off?”

Patrick grins, a surprising hint of shyness to it. “Well, after you were so hot that I came in my pants I took those off and I figured I might as well take the rest with it.”

David knows the level of smug satisfaction he gets from hearing that is unseemly, but he can’t help but preen a little. 

Patrick snuggles in next to him with the plate of fruit balanced between them. “Plus, I know you like skin-to-skin after a scene.”

David does, in fact, like skin-to-skin after a scene; there’s something so incredible in being known in this way and not being afraid of it. Patrick knows him and that’s not anything to be scared of. Luckily, Patrick starts feeding David fruit, so he can focus on that and not on how overwhelmingly happy he is.

Later—after they’re fully cleaned up and checking their phones one last time for the night—Patrick says, “For future reference, that thing you were talking about is apparently actually called a _Columbian_ Zipline.”

David blinks, trying to understand what the hell Patrick’s talking about and then—“Wait, did you look it up? I only told you so you wouldn’t google it!”

Patrick laughs, clearly uncaring that David’s trying to be annoyed with him. “I was curious!”

David glares, but he can’t help but feel a warm fire of joy that he can tell Patrick these sordid things from his past and it’s okay, something they can laugh about together. “Well, I still can’t find good coke in this town.”

Patrick affects a ridiculous pout. “Damn, guess we’ll just have to stick to the other sort of zipline.” He sneaks his fingers in to pinch lightly where one of the clothespins had been on David’s torso.

“I absolutely cannot stand you,” David says, leaning in to give Patrick a good night kiss.

“Mm, love you, too,” Patrick replies, just before their mouths meet.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp, we've come to the end. everyone thank sam making me do this 😂  
> big thanks to gray for the beta, and gray and liz and sam for all the incessant handholding in this one.
> 
> being a part of this was a lot of fun, you're all amazing ❤️

“David, can you come help me?” Patrick calls out from the backroom. 

David is barely through the curtain before Patrick is pulling David into his arms and kissing him. David gasps in surprise, but catches up quickly, winding his arms around Patrick’s neck and letting Patrick back him up against the wall. Patrick’s mouth is hot and searching against his. He’s kissing like if he doesn’t, he might die. David loves being kissed like this—loves being kissed by _Patrick—_ confident and teasing, a little messy, Patrick’s mouth wet and eager.

They haven’t made out in the back room like this in years, not during store hours at least. There have been a few post-open-mic-night exceptions, but this—Patrick desperate and greedy for him during business hours—well David didn’t know he missed _this_. 

By the time Patrick pulls back, they’re both breathless and more than a little turned on. Patrick's cheeks are flushed and he bites his lips, looking at David like he's the most amazing thing he’s ever seen. 

“What’s gotten into you?” David asks, pressing another kiss to Patrick’s lips. “Not that I mind.”

“This sweater—god. You haven’t worn it in years.” It’s a deep navy sweater, with big pearls haloed by gold dotted across the front and David had _no_ idea Patrick liked this sweater at all. Patrick slides a hand under the edge of the sweater, spreading his palm out across the small of David’s back. “We were getting the store ready, and you told me I had a clean mouth and I wanted to kiss you so badly—god, I wanted to kiss you _so_ much David.”

“Now you get to.” David smiles as Patrick’s eyes flick to his lips.

“I do get to.” Patrick smiles back, easy and warm, and then he leans in to kiss David again, slower and sweeter this time, but no less deliberate. He keeps kissing and kissing, unhurried and just the right side of rough, nipping at David’s lips, pressing David into the wall, and David can feel how hard he is.

Patrick pulls back again, breathing hard, his mouth pink and shiny and beautiful. “David—the minute we get home tonight, I am going to take you apart. Gonna do every single thing I imagined doing with you that day, everything I thought about all the way up to Rattlesnake Point all those mornings.”

“I—okay. That sounds like a good plan.” Patrick smiles at him, almost predatory, and kisses him one more time before disappearing back into the front.

**

David can’t stop thinking about exactly how good Patrick’s plan is, because Patrick’s looking at him in a way that he usually reserves for when David’s naked, or at the very least showing a bit of chest hair, and it makes David squirm with want. 

He goes to the back room after lunch to label some new candles and he gets through exactly three before Patrick joins him.

Patrick is barely through the curtain when he call David over to him. “C’mere.”

David wants to go, wants to go stand in front of Patrick and let Patrick do whatever he wants. But they were lucky that they weren’t interrupted before and David’s not sure they’ll be so lucky again.

“David, please.” Patrick’s voice takes on a slightly desperate edge as he takes a step closer and then David’s meeting him halfway. Patrick crashes into him, kissing him hard and uncoordinated and David seriously considers sending past-David a thank you for buying this Dries Van Noten.

Patrick gets a hand around the back of David's neck, surprisingly gentle considering how fierce and hot his mouth is against David’s. He pulls back, sliding his hand around to gently cup David’s jaw. “Sorry, I just—that sweater. I can’t wait to get you home. I’m going back out there before I undress you right here.”

David is left breathless in the back room, so turned on and confused that this sweater has thoroughly undone his normally very composed husband. It’s not like it was _that_ skirt. 

**

David feels Patrick’s gaze on him all day—when he helps one of Jocelyn’s teacher friend’s pick out a new toner, when he curates a cheese basket for a friend of Ronnie’s, when he restocks the body milk. It feels good to be this wanted—not that Patrick doesn’t make him feel wanted all the time, but this is like the early days, when David couldn’t breath, was constantly aware of Patrick in his periphery all day. 

Finally, _finally_ , it’s closing time and David hurries to flip the sign on the door and lock the door. Last night, some mom walked in while they were closing and held them up by fifteen minutes and that can _not_ happen tonight.

Deciding the sweeping can wait until tomorrow, David walks behind the counter, where Patrick is closing out the register. He slides behind Patrick, widening his stance to line up their hips, getting his arms around Patrick’s waist and starts kissing his way up the back of Patrick’s neck.

“David.” Patrick sounds stern, but he’s grinding back into David, his ass fitting perfectly against David’s body. David leans into Patrick a little more, pressing the embellishments on his sweater into Patrick’s back, earning him a groan. “David,” Patrick tries again, but this time it’s breathy, not stern at all. 

“Patrick,” he whispers into the crook of Patrick’s neck, kissing him there. “Take me home.”

“I’m _trying_.” Patrick punctuates each word by thrusting back into David. David is half-hard, and at this rate he’s going to make a mess of his boxer briefs before they get home. David slides a hand down Patrick’s chest, three buttons, a belt buckle, and, “You’re so hard already.”

“Told you I like this sweater.” Patrick pushes back into David again, his finger hovering over the screen of the register. David is curious to see how long they can draw this out, but he also wants to get home. He tucks his chin over Patrick’s shoulder and taps the screen, running the reports Patrick insists they need each day.

The second David hits _OK_ to run the last report _,_ Patrick turns in his arms, getting a hand around the back of David’s neck to angle his head, and then he’s kissing him. Patrick’s mouth is still capable of surprising David, biting David’s lower lip, his tongue teasing and perfect, his hands sliding down to grab David's ass. David is about to object to making out in the middle of the store, but then Patrick grinds into him, kissing him harder, and David forgets about everything but _this._

Eventually, Patrick trails a hand down David’s chest, over the design. “Let’s go home.”

**

They’re barely through the front door when Patrick drops to his knees. David’s mouth falls open—is Patrick going to suck him off in the foyer? It wouldn’t be the first time, but David thought Patrick had a more involved plan. David’s so hard from Patrick’s teasing hand in the car, rubbing David through his pants. Patrick spent the ride outlining all the upcoming vendor visits, in that low controlled voice, while his hand was relentless against David’s cock.

Patrick unties David’s shoes carefully, tapping each leg so he can take them off, before running his hands up David’s legs gripping his thighs tight. He looks up at David, blinking slowly and biting his lip. “You look—god, you looking fucking beautiful.”

David carefully cups Patrick's jaw. “So do you, honey.” Patrick’s eyes flutter shut for a second at the compliment and then he’s unbuttoning David’s pants, pulling them down to mid-thigh. He leans forward and pulls the waistband of David’s boxer briefs with his teeth, just enough to get the head of David’s cock out, into his mouth, hot and teasing. Patrick’s tongue is moving so slowly as he looks up at David, making the kind of eye contact that David used to hate and now loves. David tries to thrust, but Patrick’s hands slide up to his hips and hold him steady, as he works his mouth, unhurried and brilliant, doing the thing with his tongue that David’s loves best, but at half time so it drags deliciously over where David is the most sensitive.

“Please—Patrick.” David grabs Patrick’s wrists, holding them even tighter against his hips. “Please,” he begs again. 

Instead of doing _anything_ he wants, Patrick pulls off, his mouth wet. “Go upstairs and get naked, I’ll be right there. Just gotta water the plants.”

David laughs all the way up the stairs. Of course, nothing could come between Patrick and his garden. It took years before it flourished, and Patrick never takes it for granted. That first summer was especially fraught. 

It takes Patrick exactly eleven minutes to water the garden and come back upstairs, so David takes his time, putting his clothes away. At the last second, he decides to leave the sweater out on the default clothes chair.

David gets himself into bed, sitting up against the headboard. He is still more than half-hard and he lightly strokes himself while he waits, until he’s just as hard as he was in Patrick’s mouth. He glances at Patrick’s bedside clock and then at the door—Patrick should be walking in right about now. Sure enough, David hears Patrick coming up the stairs. He’s taking them two at a time, and David grips himself tighter. 

Patrick has his shirt unbuttoned and his pants undone when he walks into the room. “Fuck—David. I didn’t know you started without me.” Patrick tosses his clothes haphazardly across the room as he makes his way toward the bed. 

“Didn’t start, just wanted to be ready for you.”

Patrick stops at the foot of the bed, sliding his boxers off and then grabbing David’s ankles and pulling him down the bed. He watches Patrick's eyes rake down his body, lighting David up with want. 

“David—god. You look—how do you _always_ look so good.” Patrick rubs his thumb over David’s ankle bone, and it makes David feel wildly out of control, something so delicate, even after all this time.

“Patrick— _please_ ,” David wants so much, wants more. Patrick smiles and looks him up and down again, with such filthy intent, his thumb still so gentle over David’s ankle. The combination makes David want to sit up, pull Patrick onto him—something, _anything_. 

Patrick trails kisses up David’s leg as he slowly crawls up David’s body, making sure his cock drags against David’s other leg. He bites David, on his inner right knee, where they’ve discovered he is _so_ sensitive, and David immediately wraps a hand around himself. 

“Not yet.” Patrick takes his hand off his dick and carefully places it on the bed. “Not yet, baby.”

David whines, but nods and Patrick resumes his trail of kisses, his mouth soft and wet and open as he works his way up David’s body, until he reaches David’s mouth, kissing him and kissing him until David is dizzy with how much he wants Patrick. 

Patrick sits up eventually, shifting until he’s straddling David’s chest. David tries to catch his breath, but Patrick’s cock is right there and he wants it in his mouth, down his throat. Patrick must see something on his face, because he smirks, gripping the base of his cock. “You want this?”

David nods and opens his mouth, feeling desperate for it, pushing his tongue forward for Patrick. “You really want it.” 

David nods again, his mouth open and waiting. Patrick drags the head of his cock across David’s tongue once, twice and then David can’t wait anymore he cranes his neck to get his mouth around it. 

“So greedy.” Patrick gets his hands in David’s hair, gripping hard, pulling David off. “I’ve got you.” Patrick waits until David lays back and opens his mouth again, and then he slowly, so _so_ slowly, presses into David’s waiting mouth. Patrick thrusts, deliberate and deep, until he’s hitting the back of David’s throat. David relaxes and takes it, like he has been all day. Whatever Patrick wants, David wants him to have. 

Patrick's fingers are gentle in his hair now as he fucks into David’s mouth, pushing and pushing, making David take it and soothing him at the same time. Patrick pulls out, right when David runs out of air, rubbing his cock across David’s mouth, all wet and messy and so good. 

“So good—fuck. So wet and messy and good.” Patrick praises him, looks down at him like he can read his mind.

Patrick shifts back on his knees, dragging his cock across David’s chest hair. He slides back further, dragging the wet tip across David’s nipple. David lets out a shocked moan, grabbing at Patrick’s thighs, watching as Patrick leaves a slick line across his chest hair, circling the other nipple. “You like that?” Patrick does it again, slower, an imperfect circle, leaking all over David’s chest.

“I do like that,” David manages to gasp out, right as Patrick’s fingers pinch his nipple. The combination of the slick sweep of Patrick’s dick across one nipple and the sharp pinch of Patrick’s fingers on the other make David thrust up off the bed. “I like it— _please_.”

“Please what?” Patrick doesn’t even look up, concentrating on David’s chest, but his voice is smug all the same.

“I don’t—you know.” David trusts Patrick will know what he needs, even though he doesn’t. “Just give it to me.”

“Okay, David.” Patrick leans over and presses a soft kiss to David’s lips, before reaching over to get the lube.

Patrick moves so he’s kneeling next to David. “Open up for me?” He taps David’s thigh, stroking himself slowly. David spreads his legs, and Patrick moves between them, grabbing one of David's ankles and setting it up on his shoulder. “That’s good, you’re so good for me.” Patrick kisses his ankle softly and then gets the lube, gets his finger slick, and rubs it over David’s hole. 

Patrick teases a fingertip in, slow and shallow, pressing in, just a little, rubbing the tip of his finger back and forth lightly. David loves getting fingered, loves Patrick’s thick fingers all the way inside him, pressing, lingering just so, stretching him. But Patrick’s also figured out that David loves this, too, that he’s so so sensitive right here, that Patrick can take him apart with one finger shallowly fucking into him, a delicious tease that unravels David and makes him leak alarmingly fast every time.

“Look at you, you’re so hard.” Patrick leans over, forcing David’s leg into his chest and takes the head of David’s cock into his mouth, working his tongue in time with the shallow thrusts of his finger. It’s a tease, all of it—none of it’s enough to send David over the edge, but it’s enough to leave him at the precipice. 

David tries to move his hips, to fuck into Patrick’s mouth or onto Patrick’s finger, but Patrick has him pinned down, trapped in this _almost-ness_ , chanting _please please please._ The more David begs, the slower Patrick goes, his tongue making deliberate and unhurried circles around the head of David’s cock, one finger making torturously slow sweeps, lighting David up everywhere. 

David is gasping, feeling wild and out of control, desperate for more. “Patrick, I need—you have to. Please.” He reaches for Patrick, but he’s just beyond David’s grasp.

Patrick pulls back, a smug smirk on his face. “Oh, I _have_ to?” He pushes his finger all the way in, sudden and sure and David arches off the bed.

“Fuck, I love getting to do this with you.” Patrick slides his finger out, resuming his slow teasing pace. “I never—fuck, I was so worried you didn’t want this with me. And now—” Patrick finishes the thought with another smooth press all the way into David. 

“Is this—what you thought about doing to me that day?” David groans as Patrick resumes his teasing, thick finger brushing against his rim, making David squirm and try to get more.

“God. I thought about everything.” Patrick leans over slowly, his gaze sweeping up David’s body until he’s close enough for their lips to meet. He presses his finger in again, still at a glacial pace.

“Like what?” David whispers against Patrick’s mouth. His words turn into a whine as Patrick moves his finger inside David, tiny movements, making David feel like he might perish if Patrick doesn’t give him more soon. Patrick kisses him messy and open-mouthed, his tongue just this side of filthy. David kisses him back like his life depends on it.

Patrick pulls back, giving David’s nipple a pinch, fucking his finger into David slowly, a mix of shallow and deep thrusts, so David never knows exactly what Patrick’s going to give him.

“Fuck. I thought about kissing you, getting your shirt off. I thought about that mouth wrapped around my cock, coming all over your pretty lips.”

“Okay—let me, come on me, let’s do that.” David begs.

Patrick presses his finger in sharply, twisting the way he knows David likes. “Don’t you want to hear what else I wanted to do with you?”

“Mhmm, I do. Tell me.” David tries to shift his hips, to get Patrick’s finger where he wants it, but Patrick pulls out and traces a light circle over David’s rim, only letting his finger slip in a little.

“Wanted to get my mouth on you, wondered if you would come all over my face. Wondered how good you’d look coming on me.”

“Fuck, you look so good with come on you, Patrick. I love getting you all messy.” David does, he _loves_ coming all over Patrick, the way he whimpers and runs a finger through it. Just thinking about it makes David somehow even harder.

Patrick keeps talking, each word moving through David like a wave, like a shock. “I thought about that, too, about you fucking me hard, wondered if you could make me come all over myself untouched. Thought about your cock in me, about you leaning over me.” 

The idea of Patrick, who hadn’t even kissed a man, thinking about getting fucked by David is so hot, it makes him clench down on the finger Patrick is teasing him with. 

“Fuck—do that again.” Patrick’s voice takes on a bossy needy edge that makes David want to give him everything.

David does and is rewarded with Patrick angling his finger just so, making David gasp.

“More—more.” David is so hard, he feels like Patrick has been teasing him forever.

“More what, David? More of this?” Patrick adds lube and slides two fingers into David, just a little, barely, teasing and stretching David. “Or do you want to hear what else I wanted to do with you?”

David shifts his hips, trying to get Patrick’s fingers to slide in further, but it’s futile, he’s not getting more until Patrick decides to give it to him. “Both. I want everything.” 

“I thought about fucking you, wondered what it would be like to watch my cock slide in and out of you, making you come tight around me. Thought about collapsing on you after, feeling your come between us.” Patrick fucks into David then, and it’s so perfect, David’s mind goes hazy. Nothing matters but this, the deliberate movements of Patrick’s fingers in him, the sound of Patrick’s voice.

“Do you know what I wanted to do the most? Wanted to feel your cock against mine, wanted to get a hand around it, wanted to feel you come against me, wanted to see your come all over my dick.” 

David opens his mouth to say something but then Patrick’s fingers move just so and David just ends up whimpering and nodding. Distantly, he remembers that night at Stevie’s, that’s exactly what they did, and something about the idea that Patrick made his own fantasy come true—that the fantasy was _David_ —is unbearably sweet and hot and so _so_ Patrick.

David whines when Patrick slides his fingers out, he wants more of Patrick, not less.

“I know, baby, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” Patrick squeezes lube on his hand, then wraps it around David’s cock, stroking him slowly. Patrick swipes his thumb over the tip of David’s cock. “So wet for me, love how wet you get, so messy—so good.”

David thrusts up into Patrick’s fist. “Yes, please. Make me, please. I need it. You make me—feel so fucking good.” The words rush out, and the faster David talks, the slower Patrick strokes him. Patrick lets go and adds more lube to his hand and David wants to cry at the loss of contact, but then Patrick starts stroking himself, David can see he’s doing it fast and a little rough, the way he does when he’s feeling out of control. 

“You’re so beautiful. Gonna make you come—just like that, just like I wanted to the first time I saw you in that sweater.” Patrick shifts, moving until his cock is brushing against David’s, and they both gasp. David grabs at his shoulders as Patrick wraps his hand around both of them and it’s so good, it’s fantastic, it’s exactly what David needed. His grip is firm and his cock slides right against David’s—there’s nothing teasing about it. 

It feels so good to finally get what he needs, to be wanted like this, desired, taken apart so expertly by hands that care about him. "I’m so close—honey," David knows his husband's name, he's said it like a million times this day, this week, this _hour_. Except right now, he doesn't. "Don’t stop." David gives up, and gives in, coming so hard he can't breathe, everything incandescent and soundless and so sensitive. 

“Fuck, yeah, come all over us.” Patrick’s voice is distant and low and breathy and David can tell he’s close too.

"Patrick." Yes, Patrick. That's it. Patrick, who groans and grips them tighter, making David shake through the last of his orgasm.

Patrick keeps jerking them off, using David’s come to slide his hand over them faster, making David shudder and then Patrick’s coming too, chanting David’s name, reverent and full of awe.

Patrick rubs his hand over David’s stomach, wiping the mess of both of them through the hair there, and then collapses on David. He kisses David’s cheek, his jaw, his lips, before tucking his face into the crook of David’s neck.

David wants to protest about being used as a towel and a pillow, but it’s nice having Patrick all over him, comforting and warm. “That was—I forgot your name, what planet we were on, how to even breathe.” David pants, still trying to catch his breath.

Patrick lifts his head up. “That good, huh?”

“It’s always that good.” David admits and then looks at Patrick, his eyes making David feel like he can say anything. David wants Patrick to feel like he can say anything too. “You didn’t tell me that night—that night as Stevie’s. That you’d thought about that.”

“Well, what was I going to say, I’d spent hours gay panic hiking thinking about getting to fuck you?”

“I mean—yes? I asked you. I wanted to do whatever you wanted that night.”

“We did what I wanted, David.” 

“But I didn’t _know_ I was giving you exactly what you wanted. I like knowing that,” David says, softly. 

David watches the joke Patrick wants to make to deflect the moment, and notices when Patrick decides to go with the truth. He takes a breath and then says, “I just—didn’t want everything to be _you_ needing to take care of _me_. I wanted us to feel like we were in it together.”

“You know, it’s both, right? That’s what makes this—” Patrick cuts him off with a kiss.

“I know that now, David.” Patrick smiles at him like David is still the easiest decision of his life.

This time, David kisses Patrick. “Okay, good.”


End file.
